Blinking Chaos
by Gouki
Summary: Age of Apocalypse refugees Blink, Sabretooth, Wild Child, Prelate Cyclops, Jean Grey, and Weapon X are lost in the "normal" Marvel Universe, and must adjust accordingly.
1. Prologue

# BLINKING CHAOS  
by [Gouki][1]

PROLOGUE

"Hope Bishop did his job."

It was the end. Pretty soon, Sabretooth knew, they would all die. Although Apocalypse was dead, the fighting hadn't stopped. The Human High Council was sending their nukes to kill off everything else. One way or the other, it was over. The bombs were coming. He wished Clarice and Kyle didn't have to be there. He knew that they had fought the hardest of all the X-Men to change the way things were, to make things right. They fought the hardest, at least to Sabretooth, for Magneto's dream. If Bishop had done his job right, maybe they would all cease to exist before the bombs fell, but if not......

Nobody believed Weapon X when he told them that the bombs were on their way. At the time, everybody was too busy fighting Apocalypse's forces to care anyway. The only thing that was important at the time was making sure that nothing interrupted Bishop's journey back through time to save the legendary Charles Xavier from his own son. Sabretooth didn't particularly believe in Bishop's stories of another world where everything was "right" and Apocalypse didn't rule more than half of the world. It sounded too good to be true.

What would it mean for Victor Creed? Would he still have become Sabretooth? Probably. Except that he probably would not have had a Magneto there to guide him to the right path. He knew that he would most likely be a killer in such a world. He was a killer in this one, before Magneto and the X-Men set him straight. But it would be better for Clarice and Kyle. Wouldn't it?

While the other X-Men were despairing over the fate the bombs would bring, Sabretooth kept watch of the M'Kraan Crystal. Many of Apocalypse's "faithful" followers had tried to escape into it, hoping to find an easy world to conquer for themselves. They were all stopped of course, most by Sabretooth himself.

He remembered one particularly grotesque little creature with two pairs of arms, one pair sprouting out of its forehead, skittering toward the crystal. "An ugly little thing," Sabretooth thought at the time. "No way is it gonna screw up all the stuff we've worked for." He dove at the little creature and snatched it up.

"Sorry, pal," Sabretooth growled, "yer stayin' right here."

When captured, the little creature began screaming. It was a high-pitched, ugly squealing sound which resembled the sound of one dragging their nails on a chalkboard. "PutSugarman down, hairball!" it spit out, frantically shaking its four fists. "Sugarmannot gonna die here! Notnow not ever!"

Sabretooth squeezed the screaming Sugarman's head underneath his foot until a disgusting popping sound silenced it. "Sorry, Sugarman," he rumbled to the decapitated body. He genuinely felt bad about killing the creature. He supposed that it only wanted to live. But who didn't? Sabretooth certainly wanted to live. He was pretty sure that Clarice and Kyle wanted to live. All of the X-Men wanted to live. None of them would, though. None of them could, at least, not here. If Bishop did his job, they'd all get a second chance.

He thought about Weapon X as the aircraft from Europe approached Apocalypse's citadel. When he told the X-Men about the bombs, he didn't seem to care much himself. He looked like he was already dead, like he had lost everything that kept him alive. Sabretooth knew that Weapon X must have lost Jean, his lover, shortly before he got there. Jean Grey was everything to Logan. He had given up so much for her sake, the least of which was his left hand, when he rescued her from Apocalypse three years ago. Sabretooth and Weapon X were obviously not the best of friends, but it was impossible for him not to feel sad for Logan's loss.

Sabretooth took one last look at the sky. Then his eyes turned to Clarice. She was like a daughter to him. After all this time, she and Kyle had become, like Jean was to Logan, everything to him. Could he really let them die in the explosion, after all they had done to make the world better? Sabretooth already knew how he would end up if this timeline Bishop had told them about was the right one. He thought about Kyle Gibney, the Wild Child. Hopefully, Kyle would be relaxing on a Canadian prairie somewhere in this new timeline, without a care in the world, rather than fighting some insane Darwinist dictator and his goosestepping clone army in a corpse-stained America. And Clarice Ferguson, or Blink when she was wearing her X-Man uniform, would hopefully just get the chance to live a somewhat peaceful life with her family. But if that world's Sabretooth turned out to be the soulless, conscienceless murderer that Magneto had prevented him from becoming here...

He shuddered at the thought. Although unlikely, it was possible for another version of Sabretooth to hurt or kill Blink or Wild Child. The mere thought of him hurting the ones he loved nearly broke Victor Creed's heart. But what could he do? What could anyone do?

A voice then cried out in pain, jolting Sabretooth out of his self-pitying moment. He knew the voice. It belonged to Cyclops, the Prelate Scott Summers of Apocalypse's empire. The battered Prelate was carrying the body of Jean Grey in his arms.

"Cyclops," Weapon X hissed. "Thought yer psycho brother Havok killed you-"

"Logan," Cyclops groaned weakly, "shut the hell up. She's still alive."

Logan looked down at the broken body in Cyclops' arms. "Jeannie?" he choked, checking her over from head to toe. She was still alive, but she wouldn't be for long. She had massive internal injuries, and without immediate medical attention, she would die very soon. Without another word, Weapon X grabbed Cyclops and Jean Grey and leaped into the M'Kraan Crystal. Clarice and Kyle, who were closest to the crystal, moved to try and stop him, but they were way too slow.

Weapon X had made a move to save the one thing he cared about in his life, and Sabretooth would be damned if he didn't get the same chance. His mind was made up. He knew that what he was about to do could jeopardize everything that the X-Men had worked for the past ten years. He didn't care anymore.

Clarice and Kyle were close enough to the crystal. The other X-Men were distracted enough to be too slow to stop him. He decided that there was hope.

"I'm gonna have to be fast about this," he decided. "They'll kill me if they catch me."

Sabretooth didn't bother to let the X-Men know what he was going to do. He dove at Clarice and Kyle as they stood gawking at the M'Kraan Crystal where Weapon X had jumped through with Cyclops and Jean, and grabbed them by the collars of their torn X-Men uniforms.

Then he dove into the M'Kraan Crystal, with Clarice Ferguson and Kyle Gibney in tow. "C'mon kids," he shouted as they disappeared into the unknown, "we're goin' fer a ride!"

The nuclear bombs fell. The Age of Apocalypse was over. But for Sabretooth, Wild Child, Blink, Jean Grey, Weapon X, and Cyclops, an adventure was just beginning... 

* * *

This story also appears on my webpage, [www.blinkingchaos.com][2], along with a lot of other crap like fan art and... you don't really care do you? Well, I hope you liked it and will continue to read the rest of it! Oh, and a review couldn't hurt either...

   [1]: mailto:gstebbin@clarityconnect.com
   [2]: http://www.blinkingchaos.com



	2. Chapter One

**Blinking Chaos  
by [Gouki][1]  
Chapter One**

Inside the M'Kraan Crystal

"C'mon, Red," Logan whispered comfortingly, "just hang on a little longer."

Jean Grey groaned softly. In Scott's arms, she squirmed in pain from the injuries she sustained from Havok.

"Lissen up, Cyclops," he growled as Scott stumbled along beside him. "I ain't never trusted you." Scott stopped for a second, his body tensed in anticipation for a possible confrontation. Not that it would have done him any good. He was wearing a blindfold to prevent him from losing control of his optic blasts, which also prevented him being very effective in a fight. Besides, he had injuries of his own that put him at a serious disadvantage if a fight were to happen.

"Yeah," Scott answered slowly, still carrying Jean in his arms.

"But what you did, tryin' to help those people escape from Apocalypse, shows me that you ain't the same as you used ta be," Logan continued gruffly. "And yer helpin' Jeannie here and now, even though ya can barely stand up."

Scott nodded grimly. "What're you saying, Logan?"

Logan looked down at Jean again. "This lady means more to me than anything. She trusted you to help her lead them people to freedom-"

"-and I failed." The grim look on Scott's face had gotten even grimmer as he spoke those words.

"No," Logan said, "there wasn't anything you coulda done about those bombs. What I was gonna say, before you interrupted me, is that you did yer best to help her save those people. So as far as we're concerned, the slate is clean between you and me."

Logan turned to continue on the path. The two men understood each other now.

"Just one last thing, though," Logan added. "If you ever betray her-"

His adamantium claws ejected from the housings in his right forearm with a metallic scraping sound.

"-I'll gut you six ways to Sunday."

Scott nodded. "We'd better figure out where we're going if we're going to help Jean."

That, Logan decided, was the problem, unfortunately. Wherever they were, it sure wasn't anyplace on Earth. The horizon seemed to shift its position constantly, giving a sensation of movement where there was none. The road they were on seemed to go on and on literally into infinity. As for physical features, there really weren't any to speak of, except for the road they were travelling on. Really, all there was to see were shapeless colors and lights, and the occasional floating crystal shards. If they didn't get past all of this soon, Jean would die. But where could they go? There were really only two directions for them to walk in: forward and back. They had agreed that they couldn't go back.

But was going forward doing them any better?

Finally, Cyclops shouted off into the infinity, "Where in hell are we?" He was answered by a young voice that seemed to come from all around them.

"Nowhere," it answered blithely. Then it changed its mind. "Or everywhere. It depends: where do you want to be?"

The voice awakened Jean, who was previously in a state of unconscious delirium. She groaned painfully and looked around. "Who's there?"

Finally, the voice was given a body. It was that of a young man, dressed in a green hospital gown. His eyes were glowing, and all of his dark black hair stood on end. He looked silly, yet ominous.

"My name is David," he answered genially. "How do you-"

He took her hand to kiss it, but upon seeing her injuries, stopped and gasped. He turned to Logan and Scott. "Why didn't you tell me she was injured?!!" Not that he'd really given them a chance to. He had just popped out of nowhere, which startled them into momentarily forgetting that their companion had life-threatening injuries.

Without waiting for them to reply, David snapped his fingers twice, and Jean Grey vanished into thin air.

"Jean!!!!!!" Logan shouted.

* * *

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters  
Westchester County, NY 1996 AD

This was it. One way or the other, Sabretooth knew he was free. Logan would either kill him, or he would escape. Either way, he would no longer be locked up in Cueball's basement being watched by some sap X-Man twenty-four hours a day. After smashing Logan's face into the floor, he made his way to the door of his cell.

Logan got up to stop him. "Step back from that door, Creed," he warned Sabretooth, the claws on his hands popped out, battle ready. He couldn't let him escape. "Or-"

Sabretooth turned back to face Logan. "Or **_WHAT,_** ya little hypocrite!" he shouted. "Go for it!" He pointed to his own throat with both hands. "All it takes is one good slash!" he taunted. "Right here, boy!"

The Professor was a fool for believing Victor Creed could ever be rehabilitated. He killed because of an addiction to death which could only be sedated in one of two ways: one, have a psion provide a telepathic drug, the "glow," which calmed the beast within, or two, just go out and rip some fool to death with his fangs and claws. Most times he chose the latter. Hundreds died at his claws, all for the sake of feeding his bloodlust. Many of his victims were friends of Logan. The Professor had taken Victor Creed in, to remove the Sabretooth, and save the man trapped within.

But Sabretooth didn't want that.

Logan was once in a similar situation as Creed. The difference being, Logan wasn't evil, and he was no killer. While Sabretooth was a slave to bloodlust, Logan merely struggled a beast within, something that made him a little wilder than most. Something that always begged to be let out, but was controlled. They were both similar animalistic killing machines physically, but mentally, they were as different as night and day.

But still, Logan wanted to let the animal out. He wanted Creed.

"Get some payback for Silver Fox!" Creed taunted. He knew all the right buttons to push. Silver Fox, one of Creed's victims, just happened to be special to Logan. She was his lover once, before fate separated them. Creed found her before Logan got a chance to try and start over. It was just the sort of thing that he needed to push Logan over the edge.

He couldn't be caged any longer. He never was a willing participant in Professor Xavier's rehab treatment. He just couldn't be caged. He had been a killer for too long. He couldn't turn out like Logan, a soft, weak do-gooder following Saint Xavier on some "holier than thou" sap crusade. He needed blood. He needed the glow. He needed anything but to be locked in Xavier's Shi'ar cage. Even if it meant his own death.

Logan was just the person to accommodate him in that matter, if only the little "Wolverine" could be pushed far enough.

"Let's you and me finish this once and for all!" Sabretooth growled.

The animal within beckoned at Logan. The claws were ready. He stepped up to Sabretooth. The claws were waiting.

_ Kill him, Logan._

_ He doesn't deserve to live._

_ Get it over with._

_** NO.**_

"It ain't up to me to punish you for what you done, Creed," Logan said slowly and carefully. "It's just up to me to see that you don't leave this room!"

The claws retracted into Logan's forearms. He stepped back.

It didn't quite happen the way Sabretooth expected it to. He expected some action from Logan. _Oh well. If he ain't gonna try'n kill me, then it's--_

"Dyin' time, boy!"

He leapt at Logan, roaring with all of the ferocity of his namesake.

* * *

Inside the M'Kraan Crystal

"Noooooo!!!!!!!"

Clarice Ferguson's shout echoed seemingly forever inside the walls of the M'Kraan Crystal. One second, she and Kyle were trying to stop Logan from getting into the Crystal. The next, she found herself, along with Kyle, being yanked into the Crystal by Mr. Creed.

"Mr. Creed, what are you doing!" she protested. He didn't answer, not at first. He looked off in all directions, observing his surroundings. Kyle was at his side, like a faithful puppy, also looking about.

They were on a crystal road which stretched out into infinity. No other distinguishable features could be detected to give them a physical sense of going anywhere. There were funny shapes and colors which all seemed to melt together, which made for a dizzying experience. The horizon, as it were, shifted back and forth and up and down, and floating shards of beautiful crystals moved lazily about. It was simple and overwhelming, all at once.

Clarice looked behind her. A portal opened, and within it, she saw the Age of Apocalypse meet a double doom, at the hands of nuclear bombs from the Human High Council and the M'Kraan Crystal's reality destroying crystallization wave. "Mr. Creed?"

"Had no choice, pup," he finally answered her. "I gotta make sure yer safe."

Clarice folded her arms across her chest. "Well, that's great," she muttered. "Isn't that why we were making sure that nothing got into the Crystal? So that nothing could screw up the timeline that was meant to be?" Her usually quiet voice was now dripping with sarcasm.

"So now I'm bein' lectured to by the girl I lectured to fer three years," Mr. Creed said with an amused smile. "You don't understand, Blink. I had to do that."

"Why?" she asked softly.

Mr. Creed shrugged. "I dunno. Just got a bad feeling, I guess." He regarded her resultant skeptical expression. "Before you go chewin' me out, I wantcha ta know that I did this to protect you and Kyle. I gotta real bad feelin' 'bout what might happen to ya in this new timeline." Before he could say anymore, he was interrupted by Kyle pulling his pant leg.

"What is it, kid?"

Kyle started hopping up and down and pointed to a portal that had materialized. The trio peered into it, and saw their home.

"That's impossible!" Clarice shouted. "I just saw everything get blown to hell, and now it's all back again?"

Creed looked into the portal as well. "Naw," he answered, "it's probably showin' us the most recent past. Look, there's Sidney fightin' some Infinites. And there's Holocaust gettin' the shit kicked outta 'im by that kid."

They watched the fight between Holocaust and the kid.

It didn't last long. "You owe me a rematch, punk!" they heard Holocaust scream. They didn't get to see this battle before, otherwise they might have tried to stop it. The leather clad kid had been holding a chunk of the M'Kraan crystal.

"And this time, we're fighting to the finish!" Holocaust made ready to fry the kid with a radiation blast. "Is that clear?"

"Crystal," the kid replied, ramming the chunk of M'Kraan crystal hard into Holocaust's chest, right through his life support armor. Both of them disappeared from the battle in a crackle of blinding light.

Clarice looked at Mr. Creed with a worried expression on her face. "What do you think happened to 'em?"

Mr. Creed shook his head. "I dunno." Kyle growled, ready to fight Holocaust, even though the Horseman was no longer there. "Easy, boy," Creed soothed, "somehow, I don't think he's gonna bother us."

The portal then closed, and a different one opened in its place. Mr. Creed peered into it. Within it, he saw himself.

Actually, he saw a different version of himself. The other Creed was fighting a different version of Logan in a high tech prison cell. They were killing each other in a brutal clawfight. Clarice looked over Mr. Creed's shoulder and gasped.

"Logan!" she shouted vehemently. "Only been here a few minutes and yer already messin' things up!" She started after him, but was held back by Mr. Creed.

"Not so fast, pup," he warned her. "I don't think innerruptin' that little scuffle is gonna be healthy for any of us. Besides, that ain't the Logan we know. And they prob'ly can't hear or see us anyway."

He pointed out that while the doppelganger looked and sounded like the Logan they knew, his claws were bone rather than adamantium-laced, and he didn't have the face tattoos, or the black costume. In addition, this version of Logan had both of his hands. The extra hand didn't seem to be doing Logan any good, because he was getting his butt handed to him by the other Creed.

The other Creed, in contrast to the one Clarice knew, looked and acted vile. He had bigger claws and sharper fangs, and he wasn't scared to use them. His hair was burnt off; his uniform was shredded and bloodied. He looked like he didn't mind ripping his enemy into tiny pieces, in fact, he was rather enjoying himself. To Clarice, the worst part of all were the things he was saying as he slashed up his enemy.

"Ya know, boy," he growled as he tore at Logan's face with his claws, "it surely ain't enough just to rip ya until ya dies!"

His knuckles cracked hard into Logan's already broken nose before he continued. "No, boy, after I kills ya and hangs ya out to dry, I'm gonna go after all them frails ya been sweet on!"

Logan's ribs gave an audible crack as Sabretooth stomped on his chest repeatedly.

"What's goin' on?" Mr. Creed growled, like an upset spectator at a wrestling match. He knew that Logan's healing factor was such that he could take the beating Sabretooth was giving him. Wild Child looked from Sabretooth to Mr. Creed, nearly unable to tell the two apart. He whimpered in confusion.

Mr. Creed patted him on the head, saying, "That ain't me, kid. Don't worry 'bout it."

But Clarice would be so easily soothed. She cringed as Sabretooth grabbed Logan by the hair and bashed his bloodied face into the floor.

"Ha! I'm gonna rip 'em just fer grins!"

Mr. Creed couldn't understand why his "twin" was winning so easily. Both Logan and Creed had mutant healing factors that worked just about equally. The Logan that Mr. Creed knew in the Age of Apocalypse had taken all this and more, and all but laughed it off in battle. Even without the adamantium, Logan should be able to take this.

"I'm gonna start with that uppity Jean Grey!" Sabretooth roared as he slashed at Logan. By now, Logan could hardly see. Not because he had been ripped up so badly, but because the raging hatred within him was finally blinding him to anything else except for one thing.

Sabretooth.

All of the feeling had left Logan's body. He was completely numb. And Sabretooth just kept on blabbing . . .

"Then maybe I'll mosey up to Canada and do that to Heather Hudson!"

Wild Child watched the slaughter with morbid curiousity, oblivious to all else. Clarice stood petrified, staring at the scene unblinking. Mr. Creed observed a subtle but important twitch in Logan's eye.

The runt was about to lose it. All it would take was one more nudge . . .

"I really can't wait 'til I gets to rip up them YOUNG ones, like Kitty Pryde and Jubilee-"

_Or Clarice Ferguson,_ Mr. Creed thought with a shudder. He didn't need to worry about it.

Before Sabretooth could finish his last sentence, Logan hopped to his feet. "That's it..." Logan roared, and grabbed him by the neck. He swung Sabretooth, face first, into the omnium-reinforced cell wall. Sabretooth's scream was cut off as all 345 pounds of his body was smashed into the wall through his face, shattering his front teeth. "You just stepped over the line, bub."

Logan was no more. The animal was let out. Only Wolverine remained.

**_"YOU JUST GAVE ME ALL THE REASON I NEED TO STOP YOUR FILTHY CLOCK!!!!!!!!"_**

Clarice was jolted out of her trance by this animalistic howl. She gasped in horror. "Mr. Creed! He's gonna kill you!"

Mr. Creed looked away from the scene. "Good."

Sabretooth sneered at Logan, "Oh, I do believe the lil' fireplug found the guts ta get heavy on me!" Even without front teeth, Sabretooth could still yap away.

"yOu SAiD iT, bUB!" Wolverine snapped. The human side of him was slowly slipping away, distorting his speech.

Clarice looked at Mr. Creed in dismay. "Trust me, pup," he told her softly, "it's better this way."

"But why?" she shouted, struggling to hold back tears, "what did you ever do that makes you so bad?"

"Not what I done," Creed whispered, "but what I was. What I was capable of becomin'. I was afraid this would happen. Y'see, there weren't no reason for a Magneto to come and rescue that Victor Creed from hisself here. So, I guess, here, fate just let him become that evil scumbag, since nobody needed him fer any good. Hopefully, Logan does the job right."

Clarice could not hold back her tears any longer. "NO," she choked, "you were saved. Can't they save him now? Can't they-" She broke off into sobs. Mr. Creed held her gently, rocking her back and forth, trying to shield her from the violent scene between Wolverine and Sabretooth in the cell. But she could not remove the scene from her mind. It didn't matter how evil Mr. Creed said his "twin" might be. He could still be saved.

She would save him.

"DON'T even think about it," Mr. Creed hissed. She didn't have to say anything, and he knew what was running through her mind. "Just forget about him. He wouldn't do jack fer any of us."

Clarice didn't answer. She just watched Wolverine and Sabretooth, tears streaming down her face.

Oblivious to their observers, Wolverine and Sabretooth continued their feud. "i'M fEd Up WiTH HoLdin' bACk thE wiLd paRt o' mE!" Wolverine shouted, his fist under Sabretooth's chin, ready to pop out the three claws.

"Then quit yappin' and do it!"

SCHLICK! The outermost claws ejected from Wolverine's wrist, but the middle, fatal, claw remained retracted. Wolverine growled animalistically, and stared into Sabretooth's eyes.

"Ya punkin' out on me, shortstuff?" Sabretooth shouted incredulously. "You pull this half-way malarkey out in the jungle, you'll be bad breath on a hyena!" Even that close to death, Sabretooth kept egging Logan on.

"I ain't lyin; you let me walk, an' I swear, I'll track down every livin' thing you ever cared about one way or the other-"

Tears still streaming down her face, Clarice watched the two animals as Mr. Creed held her. Her mission was clear.

"- . . . Kitty Pryde . . . "

Mr. Creed wished this would just get over with. They could have, should have, walked away, but they could not. Seeing Wolverine and Sabretooth ready to kill each other was a little too much to just ignore. Kyle was hopping around, agitated. Creed patted him on the head to comfort him with one hand, and continued to hold Clarice with the other.

" . . . Jean Grey . . . "

_Hurry up and shut that joker up already, Logan!_

" . . . Jubilee . . . Ororo . . . Cyclops . . ."

Mr. Creed looked down at Clarice again, an immense feeling of relief washing over him despite the horrifying event unfolding before them. At least the Clarice that belonged to this timeline would never be hurt by that monster. Not after Logan took care of him.

" . . . and I'll make 'em suffer a good long time before I kill 'em! I'm ready for that LAST BIG GLOW, LOGAN-"

Sabretooth paused for a second, and with a sharp intake of breath, finished, "-do it! Do It!!! D O I T ! ! ! ! !"

SCHLICK! The middle card ejected, right up through the bottom of Sabretooth's chin and into his brain.

For all of the death that Clarice Ferguson had seen over the years, living in the Age of Apocalypse, nothing could have prepared her for this. In her eyes, Mr. Creed was the embodiment of goodness and decency. She had heard the other X-Men tell her how he used to work for Apocalyspe, but she never believed them. She hardly believed Mr. Creed when he admitted it himself. She had never been able to imagine what Mr. Creed could have been like before he was an X-Man, but knew that he couldn't have been THAT bad, otherwise Magneto could never have set him straight. That had to it. This version of Victor Creed didn't start out that evil, the world made him that way. She could have brought him back. Back to salvation. But now, there wasn't anything anyone could do. Sabretooth was dead.

Clarice collapsed into Mr. Creed's embrace again, and resumed her uncontrollable sobbing. Kyle, in sympathy, crawled over to her and licked her face affectionately as Creed held her.

"Don't worry, Clarice," he whispered, kissing her on the forehead, "that'll never happen to us."

Victor Creed decided at that moment, that Sabretooth had died within himself as well. A sabertooth cat was a savage creature, using its claws and teeth to rip flesh and crush bone. Victor Creed could no longer be a savage. He had too much responsibility now.

Which wasn't to say he wouldn't still get into to a rumble now and then. Hell, the three of them were headed into a strange, new world, where anything might happen to them. It may have well been the happy happy joy joy world that Bishop said it was, but there would be problems in even the most peaceful of worlds, and they had to be prepared. If any fights were to be in their future, Creed would fight them. He just wouldn't kill anyone, not if it wasn't absolutely necessary. No more Sabretooth. From now on, he was just plain Mr. Creed

He wondered if he could move the portal somehow, to get it to show them a different place on the same Earth. He tried moving it with his hands, but found this approach to be unsuccessful. The portal had no physical structure; it was just a hole in space which led to a different place than the one they were in. But he didn't want to enter where the portal was now, because of the feral man-creature that had just finished lobotomizing a doppelganger of Creed. He needed a more quiet place to hop into.

"Huh," Mr. Creed grunted, "now how the hell do I get this door ta move?"

"Just tell it where you want it to go," a voice answered. Mr. Creed looked around, searching for the voice's owner. "Come on!" it said. "Don't waste time looking for me, just tell the portal where you want to go."

Mr. Creed rolled his eyes, and said, "New York City. Central Park." To his surprise, and the surprise of Kyle and Clarice, the portal shifted its location, moving from the cell to the location he had asked for.

The voice had gained a body, which took advantage of the trio's surprise by shoving them forcefully into the portal before it could close. He didn't want them to lose their chance because they were gawking at the portal instead of utilizing it. Heck, they spent long enough staring at the fight for the portal to have closed a dozen times.

"Hey!" Mr. Creed shouted as he and the kids fell through portal. "What the hell!!!!!!!" His shout faded out as the portal closed after them, leaving behind a strange young man in a green hospital gown.

His glowing eyes slid across the horizon. He decided that he should take care of the other three that were still inside the crystal. Two men and one woman. He had taken the woman already, and healed the injuries she had sustained. He decided that he should return her to them now, seeing as how she didn't need help any longer. Besides the two were probably getting lost trying to find her.

They would no doubt be angry with him for not letting them know what they had done with their friend Jean. He wouldn't blame them, since he didn't take the time to explain that he was only trying to help. He didn't have time before; he only had time to heal and regenerate Jean. But he would try to make them understand.

He had to help. He had to make his father proud. He had to atone for the mistakes he made. They were honest, simple mistakes, but mistakes nonetheless. He had made everything wrong once, but was given a second chance. He would show them that he was capable of doing good. He would improve everything. The refugees he was delivering from an age of Apocalypse would help him.

And nothing would stop him from making things right.

Nothing.

* * *

A little word that I forgot to include in the prologue: I actually started writing this waaaaay back in 1996 when I was just a simple 10th grader, so please take that into consideration when reading it. It first saw the net as a fanfic contribution to [Ryoga's Blink Page][2], and I've since moved it to my own page, [BlinkingChaos.com][3]. Anywho, R&R please, I love feedback! 

   [1]: mailto:gstebbin@clarityconnect.com
   [2]: http://www.crazytavern.com/blinkingchaos
   [3]: http://www.blinkingchaos.com



	3. Interlude

Interlude

__

The entity which was once a young man looked at the world which was part of the timeline which he once belonged to. He was told that he could never return to it. That was the price of his transgression, and while it was his intention to right what he had made wrong, he knew that it would be unwise to openly disobey the laws set forth by those who had assimilated him into their society.

Still, they had allowed him to make some observations. He'd been able to observe some which were not of the timeline which birthed him, but rather of the one which he'd created through his rash actions. Some of them were very interesting.

None of them were quite as advanced as he had become, naturally. Few of them could achieve the barest fraction of the wisdom and power that he had come to gain from the Elders. None of them should have been able to access the doorway.

But some did. That in itself was an amusing surprise to the Elders. They were not easily amused. It was a relief of sorts for the infant god, for he knew that being the youngest, newest member of this society required, among other things, that one does not anger one's masters unnecessarily. Now his only concern was explaining other questionable actions.

"You know that you are forbidden to interfere with the fates of mortals," the Elders all spoke as if they were one entity, rather than several. "yet a woman that surely would have died breathes still the air of life."

"Yes."

The Elders smiled. It was not a malicious smile, for their race was one that was above such petty emotions. It was simply a smile, one whose meaning the infant god was unable to determine. "So, then," they continued, "you admit that you willfully disobeyed our law."

"Elders, I was once of their-"

"Yes or no will do."

His eyes lowered, ready to receive the punishment which was surely to be the consequence of his next answer.

"Yes."

The Elders nodded, all in unison. "You are young, no, you have not been alive long enough to be young," they corrected themselves. "And as such, you do not yet understand the consequences of breaking the rules. We will not punish you. Rather, we will allow you to continue your actions."

The infant-god's eyes widened. "Elders-?"

"It is your desire to correct what you deem 'wrong,' and so, you shall see whether or not you are able to do so."

The infant-god, he who was once a young man named David Haller, turned away in bewilderment.

"Go now, finish what you have started."

The infant-god left.


	4. Chapter Two

**Blinking Chaos  
by [Gouki][1]  
Chapter Two**

The M'Kraan Crystal

Weapon X was about ready to kill someone. He could feel the red hot berserker rage boiling within him, ready to burst out at any second. The only problem was that the person he was ready to kill wasn't present at the moment, so the rage built up to frightening levels as he made his way through the M'Kraan Crystal.

This did not go unnoticed by his companion, Cyclops, who could hear a low growling noise coming from Weapon X's direction. He knew that somebody was about to get gutted, and he sure hoped that he wouldn't be in the way when the guy finally lost it.

"Scott," Weapon X snapped, "stop fer a second."

Cyclops did as he was told without question. Normally, he would have asked why they were stopping, but Weapon X had been freaking out more and more since Jean Grey had disappeared, and he didn't want to take the chance on getting some adamantium claws in his belly.

Weapon X sat down on the crystal floor of the giant space they were journeying through and grunted. He looked about in despair, wondering how in hell he ever ended up the way he had. He wondered if Jean was still alive, and if so, whether or not she was in any pain. There were about a million things he was wondering about, most of them he could do nothing about. He wondered if he had any cigars left.

He wondered just where the hell that weirdo had taken Jean and just what the hell he had done with her.

Scott Summers sat down as well, nursing his singed left arm, damaged by his psychotic brother Alex just before the bombs went off. He was unconscious for a few minutes after Alex had blasted him, so he hadn't seen Logan stab him in the back with his claws. He wished he had, so that he could spit on Alex's corpse.

Oh well. No sense in dwelling over a past you couldn't change.

"Scotty," Logan said, "how'd you survive Havok's cosmic blast? You looked like meat when I looked over you and Jeanny."

Scott shrugged. "Alex and I were immune to each others powers. That I survived doesn't surprise me much, but I'm not sure how Jean survived."

As soon as he finished speaking, Scott knew that he had made a mistake. He heard a low, growling sound coming from Logan's direction at the mention of Jean's name.

But Logan gave no other indication of anger or despair. He simply continued to talk. "I saw Jeanny slip away inta death, Scott. I saw it. I just don't know how she was brought back. Right now, I really don't care how it happened. I want her back, and we're gonna get her back."

No, they wouldn't. Because just as Weapon X had said that, the crystal floor beneath their feet had opened up, swallowing the two men whole, sending them to greater depths of the M'Kraan Crystal.

* * * 

Jean Grey had been walking for a long time.

Just exactly how long she was uncertain of, because wherever she was, whenever she was, time seemed to flow really strangely here. It felt like she should have been making better progress, that she should have been getting farther than it seemed like she was getting. As it was, it felt like she was walking in place. The features of the crystal floor beneath her feet never changed as she walked along.

The multicolored "sky" was the only thing that really changed, but that really didn't help her much. All that did was make her really dizzy.

She stopped for a second and sat down.

Where in hell was she?

_Am I dead?_ she wondered.

Well. That certainly could be a possibility. After all, she did remember being blasted by Alex Summers' cosmic bolt. She remembered being in the worst physical pain she had ever been in her entire life, but feeling comfortable with the knowledge that she was dying in Logan's arms. After that, she didn't know what had happened next. She remembered awakening to that same feeling of physical agony, only to have it disappear moments later, leaving her in a strange land all by herself.

But she had the strangest feeling that Scott and Logan were there . . .

It had to have been just that. A feeling. Because they obviously weren't with her now. _Was_ she dead?

No, she might have been hallucinating, but she definitely wasn't dead. She wasn't even hurting. The injuries Alex had given her were distant memories, or better yet, they were just bad dreams that she had awakened from. She didn't even have scars.

A portal opened.

A girl emerged from it, disguised by shadows which hid her face and body, leaving only a featureless form which stepped toward Jean Grey.

"Come with me," the shadow girl said urgently, "if you want to live."

The shadow girl extended her hand toward Jean.

Reluctantly, Jean took the hand and followed the strange girl to the portal.

From the Age of Apocalypse, through the M'Kraan Crystal, and to . . . 

Ah, but that, you mustn't know until later . . .

The Frustrated

David hadn't counted on her showing up and messing around with things. He thought that their last confrontation had ended on a positive note. He thought that the two of them, they infant gods, had come to an understanding.

He thought wrong, obviously.

_Damn her!!!_

This was bad. Jean Grey was instrumental in his plans. Without her, things could get rather chaotic. He'd have to get her back.

It was obvious that he wouldn't get any help from the Elders. They had made it rather clear that this was his show to run. He'd have to use his own resources.

_Bishop?_

_Oh, yes. He's also floating around in here somewhere, David._

_But will he help, or will he make things worse?_

It didn't matter. Once this was over, David would have a little chat with her. Then she'd be sorry... 

   [1]: mailto:gstebbin@clarityconnect.com



	5. Chapter Three

**Blinking Chaos  
by [Gouki][1]  
Chapter Three**

Tourists from Apocalypse

Three refugees from a parallel timeline landed in New York City's Central Park, apparently from out of nowhere. Clarice Ferguson, or Blink to her friends, was the first to land, falling onto her butt next to a bench and scaring a bunch of pigeons that were looking for bread crumbs underneath it. Kyle Gibney, the Wild Child, landed in front of the bench, almost on top of one of the pigeons.

"Ooofff!" Mr. Creed grunted as he landed heavily onto the bench surrounded by the disgruntled pigeons. He shook back his long, unwashed blond hair and scratched his unshaven chin thoughtfully. The pigeons scattered off, squawking angrily at the newcomers before they flew off.

"Yeah, same to you, pal," he said as one of the pigeons pooped on his shoulder as it flew off. He wiped the waste off his shoulder and helped the two younger refugees to their feet.

"Eww, Mister Creed!" Blink whined as she was helped to her feet by a pigeon poop-smeared hand. "That's gross!"

Mr. Creed sniffed his soiled hand experimentally. "Hmm," he muttered thoughtfully, "no toxins, no genetic accelerating' agents, no techno-organic salts, lil' bit o' smog, some digested bread." He turned to Blink. "Aside from smelling' bad, that bird's pretty healthy."

Blink folded her arms across her chest. "Since when do you care about pigeons?"

Mr. Creed tousled her purple hair with his clean hand. "I care since now. 'Sides, if that bird ain't got any genetic toxins or any other garbage in 'im, it's a safe bet to say we're in a good place."

Wild Child looked about the park curiously. He had never seen a park before, and scampered about, wanting to explore.

Blink had also never seen a place like this. The air was cleaner than she was used to. Clearer, too. She could see clouds swirling around in the afternoon sky, fading into and out of the pale blue sky. She looked at the grass beneath her feet in the park, much greener than it should have been. Wasn't grass supposed to be more of a brownish, grayish color? And the air, oh, how sweet the air was! She could actually breathe it without coughing.

Mr. Creed sniffed the air experimentally, using his heightened senses to determine what else was in it.

He sneezed.

"Daffodils," he said with amusement. "They actually have something' here that I'm allergic to that ain't extinct!"

"Daffodils?" echoed Blink. "Where? I don't see any-"

Mr. Creed pointed to a little old lady, about 80 or so, sitting in a bench about ten yards from the one they had landed next to. She was carrying a bouquet of daffodils, humming to her self, and staring off daydreamingly into space. Wild Child looked at the old woman curiously. He had never seen a person that old; on his world, people were lucky to live to be forty-five. He looked from the woman to Mr. Creed, his perplexed features indicating to his master that he was confused.

Mr. Creed laughed. To Blink and Wild Child or anyone else who saw him, Victor Creed looked to be not a day above twenty-five. In truth, he was considerably older. Probably not as old as that lady sitting on the bench ten yards away from them, but certainly older than he appeared. In his late fifties, most likely.

Memory implants and telepathic tamperings with his mind, along with a healing factor that slowed his physical aging to a crawl, made it difficult to say how old Mr. Creed was. He didn't know when he was born, because he could remember at least two different birthday parties during his childhood, one in the summer, and one in autumn, both no doubt the result of implanted memories courtesy of the Weapon X project.

It didn't matter, though. That life was past him.

"Confused, kid?" Mr. Creed asked, as Wild Child scratched behind his right ear. "People must live a lot longer here without an Apocalypse culling out everybody that he deemed 'weak,' huh?"

Blink sat down on the bench and took a deep breath. She was a bit overwhelmed by the city. She had seen Apocalypse Island one time, before she had joined Magneto's X-Men. It was a little bit like this "New York City" that the portal had taken them to, as per Mr. Creed's request, in some ways. It had tall skyscrapers all over it, just like the ones that she could see from the park she was now in, but they were all shattered, burnt out, knocked down, or just plain squashed beneath En Sabah Nur's monstrous citadel. The citadel was absent from this city, but had it been there, the very center of it would have taken place of the park.

A flimsy book rested next to Blink on the bench, its cover just as thin as the pages inside it. Mister Creed had told her about such books once. Magazines, he called them. She picked up the magazine and glanced at it. It had a picture of a green statue on its cover.

Mr. Creed looked over Blink's shoulder at the picture. The statue in it was that of a woman in robes, carrying a book in one hand and holding a burning torch aloft in the other. Blink looked at the picture with wonder.

"Ya know where the Statue of Apocalypse was on Apocalypse Island?" Mr. Creed asked her softly.

Blink turned to Mr. Creed with a sour look on her face. "Yeah," she answered, "I know where it was. It was so ugly, though. Why did you bring up something so horrible?"

Mr. Creed pointed at the picture of the statue on the cover of the magazine Blink was holding.

"That statue of the lady is what's in its place here in this world," he told her.

Wild Child couldn't speak, but he could understand English. He listened as intently, as did Blink, while Mr. Creed explained about the statue. The Statue of Liberty, Mr. Creed had explained, was torn down by Apocalypse in their world when he took over America. Liberty went against all of En Sabah Nur's beliefs, and he replaced the beautiful statue with another one in his likeness. Of course, Blink had heard of the Statue of Liberty before. She had just never actually seen what it looked like.

"Well," Mr. Creed said, "enough about the Statue of Liberty. We better find someplace ta stay, get some chow, an' clean ourselves up a bit."

Wild Child nodded his agreement.

Blink spoke up. "How are we going do that? I mean, we don't have any money, we aren't dressed like anyone else, and we don't even know how people are going to react to us. And we STINK."

She was right, they DID smell pretty ripe, Mr. Creed had decided. The Age of Apocalypse was an era that didn't give people much time to think about soap everyday. All it left time for was to let people fight for their lives. As X-Men, Blink, Wild Child, and Mr. Creed got baths maybe once every few weeks. Even that was more than most got in that hellish world. But it wasn't they never showered, just that the past few days for them gave them other more important things to worry about, like keeping Apocalypse from destroying other realities.

Mr. Creed shook his head. "I dunno, pup," he answered, "but we'd better figure something' out, 'fore we starve."

Before Blink could respond, Mr. Creed was attacked from up above.

   [1]: mailto:gstebbin@clarityconnect.com



	6. Chapter Four

**Blinking Chaos  
by [Gouki][1]  
Chapter Four**

Spider-Man

The man was dressed in a skin-tight red and blue outfit and mask. On the attacker's chest was a symbol of a spider, crawling on a crimson web. The Spider-Man's face was completely covered by his mask, but Blink could swear she could see a scowl forming beneath it.

"Sabretooth!" the Spider-Man shouted, wrestling Mr. Creed to the ground. "I don't know what you're doing here in New York, but you just chose the wrong city to terrorize!"

Mr. Creed grabbed the Spider-Man by the throat and tossed him away. "Terrorize? Seems to me the place was fine before YOU attacked me." The little old lady sitting on the bench ten yards away took no notice of the battle, but a couple jogging through the park stopped to watch the tussle, from a safe distance, of course.

Blink hopped on top of Spider-Man, and had withdrew one of the spikes from the quiver slung across her left shoulder. She pointed it at his face and charged it with her mutant spacial displacement power. Wild Child growled in anticipation of a tussle, but was held back by Mr. Creed, who slowly got to his feet, watching Blink handle the situation with the greatest of ease.

"You've got to be pretty strong and fast to knock down Mister Creed," she said, waving the spike dangerously close to Spider-Man's face. "But I doubt you're stupid enough to get your head teleported off your shoulders."

The Spider-Man nodded. "Yeah, well," he answered, taking a look around to see that Mr. Creed had already gotten to his feet, "I'm not as stupid as I may look. But I'm also not going to let you get away with whatever dastardly plan the three of you have got in mind!"

Mr. Creed almost laughed. Dastardly plan? What kind of joker used words like that? This guy obviously was joking. Instead of laughing, he leaned down to the Spider-Man and replied, "I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

Blink continued to hold the glowing spike at Spider-Man's face. "Look," she said softly, "we don't want any trouble. I don't know what misunderstanding caused you to attack us, but we don't have any 'dastardly plans,' okay?"

"That guy standing over me and this girl obviously isn't the Mr. Creed that I know," Spider-Man thought, holding back a sigh of relief. "If he was, then he would have taken advantage of my disadvantage a long time ago."

Mr. Creed tapped on Blink's shoulder and motioned for her to get off the Spider-Man.

"Listen," Mr. Creed said to the Spider, "I'm not interested in a fight right now. Neither are my two friends. We're tired and dirty and hungry. So either help us out or leave us alone, 'cuz we don't want to mess ya up."

Spider-Man got to his feet and looked around from the Mr. Creed lookalike to his two companions. Now that he had a better look at them, they didn't look all that dangerous. His "Spider Sense" buzzed slightly when he was around them, but it didn't necessarily tell him that the trio was bad news. It definitely told him to be wary of them, but not that they posed any immediate threat to him or anyone else.

If he could avoid the gratuitous fight bit with a group of strangers that he didn't even know, he WOULD avoid it.

"Tell you people what," Spider-Man offered, "I have a friend, who goes by the name of Peter Parker."

Mr. Creed nodded. "Yeah?"

"Well," Spider-Man continued, "he's probably not home right now, but I don't think he'll mind a few visitors."

Mr. Creed put his arm around Spider-Man's comparatively small shoulders and said, "Ya know, we're not too familiar with this town. Maybe you could show us where this 'Peter' lives."

Parker's Apartment

Blink was immediately impressed with Peter Parker's apartment. Of course, she would have been impressed with just about any apartment in New York, as most of them weren't all burned to brittle skeletons or demolished into rubble, like most of the buildings on her Earth. This apartment vaguely reminded her of her home, before Abyss.

Before the Age of Apocalypse.

The carpet, a creamy beige color, was the first thing Blink noticed when she walked into the apartment with Mr. Creed and Wild Child. Before her life turned into a living nightmare, the carpet in her home was the same color. The rest of the place was not as familiar. Parker had a large, round, purple couch in the center of his living room, two cabinets filled with strange plastic cassettes and disks (videos, Mister Creed had called them), and a very large television planted right in front of the couch.

Blink knew about television; she had one right in her own bedroom once. Before her life as an X-Man. She looked around, absorbing everything that had happened in the last few. . . hours? Days? She really couldn't tell how long they'd spent wandering in the M'Kraan Crystal before they'd arrived in this new world. She looked to where long unused instincts told her the kitchen would be. Wild Child and Mr. Creed were there sure enough, making there way to Parker's refrigerator, looking for food or beer. Or both.

The longer she looked about this place, the more she remembered her life before Apocalypse and Abyss and all the other horsemen and lackeys had destroyed it. In the three years she had spent as the "junior" X-Man, Blink had learned to let go of her life as Clarice Ferguson. She had learned, for better or for worse, how to kill in the name of freedom. She had learned how to fight. How to survive.

And most important of all, she had learned to do all of that for what she was witnessing right now. The right to have a home, freedom, and peace of mind. Parker wasn't home, and he probably wasn't worrying about whether or not he'd come home to find everything and everyone he ever cared about destroyed, and he didn't have to. This world didn't have the Age of Apocalypse to worry about.

She started to tremble. She had fought so hard, so long, to win back everything that was taken from her that she didn't know what to do with it when she finally won it back. She collapsed onto the couch, overwhelmed by its comfort. The other X-Men had fought just as hard as she had, and they were all dead now. She started to cry, a quiet, muffled series of chokes and sobs which caused her entire body to shake.

Mr. Creed and Wild Child heard the crying and exited the kitchen, rushing over to the couch Blink was sitting on. Her hands covered her face, trying to hold back the waterfall of tears which fell down her pink cheeks, rushing to her chin and finally streaming down her neck, where they were absorbed by the collar of the dingy, torn green X-Men uniform she wore. It was the second time in days Mr. Creed had seen her cry like this. He sat down next to her and wrapped his massive arms around her. Wild Child sat on the floor, as would a faithful dog, and looked up sympathetically to Blink as Mr. Creed began to gently rock her back and forth paternally.

"Shhh," he whispered calmingly. He knew why she was crying. The same emotions came over him in the park, and he had almost given in to the same reaction Blink had given in to, before Spider-Man had mercifully provided a helpful distraction.

But now, Mr. Creed had no such distraction, and salty saline began to flood his eyes as well.

"They all died," Blink choked out, "and we're still alive."

What had they done not to deserve salvation that we didn't do? she wondered silently.

"Shh," Mr. Creed whispered again, kissing her on the forehead gently. "They've all been given new lives; new chances. They ain't dead, pup. They're startin' over again, in this world."

He held her on the couch for another couple of hours before she fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep. When he was certain that the soft snores were real, he gently laid her down on the couch and backed away from her.

Wild Child

"So," a rough voice grunted, "she's gonna be okay, right, boss?"

Mr. Creed couldn't believe his ears. He recognized the voice, but he couldn't believe the voice was actually forming words. He looked at Wild Child in barely concealed shock.

"Huh?" he asked, looking at Wild Child, half expecting his partner not to answer back, but instead look at him like he was crazy.

Sure enough, Wild Child did not do that. He simply answered, "I said, do you think she's gonna be alright?"

Mr. Creed nodded slowly. Wild Child's words were slightly strained from disuse, and higher in pitch than his usual snarls, growls, and yips. He spoke the words not as someone just learning how to speak would, but rather as someone who could speak, but for the longest time was prevented from doing so.

"Kyle?" Mr. Creed addressed Wild Child.

"Yeah, boss?"

"First of all, don't call me 'boss.' When'd ya start speakin' again?" Mr. Creed asked incredulously.

Wild Child scratched behind his right ear as he shrugged.

"I dunno."

Mr. Creed scowled in confusion. "How come yer startin' now?"

Wild Child continued scratching his right ear. Once again, he replied, "I dunno."

Mr. Creed dismissed it with a wave of his hand. He walked back to the kitchen, yelling back to the newly talking Wild Child, "Well, anyways, ya want a beer?"

Wild Child scampered back into the kitchen, answering, "Yeah, sure. Hope this Parker guy doesn't mind us bummin' his brew."

Mr. Creed laughed. "Kyle, I don't think a guy that dresses up in red and blue spandex and calls hisself 'Spider-Man' is gonna worry too much about his beer."

Mr. Creed smiled at Wild Child's surprised reaction. He knew the second he walked into the apartment that Peter Parker and Spider-Man were both the same person, but said nothing to Blink and Wild Child. He didn't want to give Blink anymore to worry about, and he had figured that Wild Child wouldn't care anyway.

Okay, so he was wrong about Wild Child's reaction.

"Spidey's smell is all over this place," Mr. Creed explained, pointing to his nose. "I searched for a different scent, and the only ones I picked up was him and some other woman."

Wild Child's interest was immediate. "A woman?"

Mr. Creed nodded. "She's probably married to the dork, so I wouldn't go getting' yer hopes up, Kyle."

Then Mr. Creed got up and walked off. Wild Child didn't follow, but instead finished the beer. He hadn't had one in a long time, so he started to feel a bit tipsy. He decided to wait and let his healing factor take care of the alcohol before drinking another. Then he went back into the living room of Parker's apartment.

Where did Mr. Creed go?

Wild Child didn't have time to go look for him. He sat down on the floor next to the couch, faithfully guarding the sleeping Blink. After a couple of hours, he began to feel drowsy. Scratching behind his right ear one last time before he prepared to lie down, he yawned and took one last look at Blink, deciding she would be fine. But before he could fall asleep, he heard clicking sounds coming from the door of the living room. He went to the door to investigate, a was greeted by the most beautiful sight he had ever seen when the door opened.

She was a tall, slim, red-haired woman who was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans which were stretched tightly around the curves of her hips and thighs, and a light blue blouse which did little to hide the shape of the full, round breasts within it. Her face was a wonderful collection of sparsely placed brown freckles, large emerald-green eyes, high cheekbones, and a pair of lovely, pouty lips.

Those emerald eyes widened in shock as they gazed upon Wild Child.

"Hi," he murmured shyly. "My name's Kyle."

She took one good look at Kyle, a collection of bruises, cuts, scratches, and dirt, all wrapped in a blood speckled, ripped, and muddy orange spandex aerobics outfit. She took in the filthy, long blond hair which laid limply on his shoulders, framing a thin, bony looking face that smiled at her with mouth full of perfect teeth accentuated by razor sharp canines, and silvery gray eyes which revealed his hunger in pools of immediate infatuation.

She reacted the only way she knew how to this grinning, eager creature.

She fainted.

"Huh," Kyle, the Wild Child, grunted.

Mr. Creed

Mr. Creed felt like he was in heaven. Peter's apartment was, by anybody from this timeline's standards, fairly common. Nothing fancy, just two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen (which doubled as the dining room), and a living room. There was also a washing machine and dryer, which he had put to good use by running his X-Man uniform through.

He let out a growling, relieved sigh as a rain of scalding water rushed onto him. He watched his feet as dirt, blood, machine oil, and other mysterious substances slid off him and down the drain of this bath tub he was now showering in.

It had been soooooo long since he had had a shower this comfortable.

He grabbed a bar of soap, and then, surveying the amount of dirt that seemed permanently caked onto his body in the past few days, hoped it would be enough. It was, but just barely. The bar of soap had been brand new when Mr. Creed snatched it up. Now it was barely a sliver.

"Lemme see, whatsis dork got fer cleaning' hair?" Mr. Creed mumbled as he reached for various bottles that lay neatly stacked on the mini shelf inside the tub. "Head 'n Shoulders, Pantene Pro Vee, whatever. Shampoo and conditioner in one. Whatta buncha crap."

He took a look at the label of the "Pantene Pro V" and decided to use that one on his damaged, dingy hair. Cleaning this hair was a real nightmare, as it got tangled constantly as he massaged the shampoo into his scalp, and was kind of stiffly matted together in some places. He had had to shampoo twice to get all of it clean. But he didn't care. He now had time to relish in the inconveniences of washing long hair.

He stared at the drain next to his feet once again, and decide maybe he'd better let the water run for just a few more minutes just to get all that junk offa the tub floor. Then, he pushed the shower curtain out of his way and grabbed a towel. He was barely successful in wrapping the tiny towel around his thickly muscled waist.

"Geez," he muttered as he made his way to the fogged mirror above the bathroom sink. "This guy's even skinnier than he looks."

He wiped the steam off from the mirror and studied his face in awe. The shower had freshened him up, and his face had lost many of the lines and tiny wrinkles it had picked up during the Age of Apocalypse. His hair, usually a dull sandy color, was now a bright, shiny golden blonde. Hell, even the stubble on his chin looked better!

Speaking' of which. . .

Mr. Creed looked at a can of shaving cream and a razor, something that he hadn't seen in years, not one that was brand new and not worn out, anyway. He looked at the wolfish sideburns on his face and decided those would be the first to go. He liked the sideburns, but he felt that maybe they added to his "ferocious" appearance too much. Besides, he wasn't that person anymore.

After the sideburns were gone, the rest of the growth on his jaw followed. He raised his left hand to his chin and cheekbones, stroking his face to test the smoothness of where he had shaved away his beard. "With a haircut," he mused, "Kyle and Clarice won't recognize me."

He tugged at the mirror gently, to see if it maybe doubled as a medicine cabinet. Sure enough, the mirror pulled away from the wall, revealing a cabinet full of dental floss, mouthwash, aspirin, and other bathroom articles.

"Got any scissors in here?" he mumbled as he shifted things around carefully.

No such luck. There was a pair of scissors, but they were way too small for Mr. Creed to find useful. He dried himself off with another towel, and then got back into his uniform, which seemed as brand-new as he felt. He had put on everything except for his boots and gloves, because he hadn't put them into the washer, and they were still rather smelly.

He tied his long wet blond hair into a ponytail and walked out of the bathroom barefoot. He made his way into the living room just in time to see a beautiful red haired woman walk into the apartment, look at Wild Child, and faint.

"Great," he muttered. "Just what we need."

Blink

Blink blushed breathlessly as her escort led her across a dance floor of silver clouds in a pink and blue sky. She could see her suitor's expensive, tastefully tailored tuxedo, his brown, shiny hair, and his charmingly perfect smile, but when she tried to focus on his face, it was swathed in shadows, only giving a mere hint of his brutal handsomeness, leaving much to her imagination. She looked down at herself, seeing that she was wearing a very elegant, skin-tight black dress that was somewhat suggestive. She knew she should have felt bashful about wearing something that revealed so much, but instead she felt very comfortable, and allowed herself to glide along the dance floor without a care in the world. Even if she had stopped to think about it, she would have told herself that her X-Man uniform didn't really conceal much of her either, and she wore that almost all the time.

She didn't even think twice about the absence of the fuchsia pink color of her skin. It was as if the dark, golden brown tan of her skin was the color it had been all of her life. She didn't stop to wonder if her hair had also changed color, or if the purple birthmarks on her face had disappeared. All she cared about was this dance.

Her suitor pulled her closer to him suddenly. She could feel her body squeeze against his tightly as his face moved closer to hers. Even this close to him, his face was concealed by the shadows. However, now it seemed easier to make out the hidden features of his face. Now it seemed more boyishly cute than brutally handsome, but it was still difficult to tell. What she could see seemed rather familiar, but now she didn't care. His intent was as clear as day. His face leaned closer to hers, and she found herself leaning closer to him.

She closed her eyes, breathlessly anticipating a passionate kiss.

It never came.

Her suitor was ripped from her arms savagely, and unceremoniously smashed into the floor, which was no longer composed of soft clouds, but now of cold, unforgiving granite. Blink herself was swatted off her feet, and she crashed into the cold, hard floor as well, the force of the blow knocking the wind out of her and bouncing her closed eyes open. She looked at herself again, and instead of seeing the sexy black gown and tanned brown skin, she beheld the familiar sight of her light green X-Man uniform dress and fuchsia skin.

The identity of her attacker came as no surprise.

"Holocaust," she spit out, taking in the horrific sight of Apocalypse's right hand man and most trusted Horseman. He stepped toward her in his bulky life support armor, aiming at her with the cannon that was permanently set into the left arm of his armor. The clear, orange crystal of his armor was brightly lit by the glowing skeletal remains of the body of one of the most dangerous mutants the X-Men had ever faced.

What remained of the skin on his skeletal face stretched into an evil smile, which could only faintly be seen inside the orange crystal. "Why, Blink," he cackled, "you seem to be enjoying yourself, you genetic traitor. I'm so sorry about your 'date,' but, he was weak, and as such, my father commanded his death. So shall it be with you."

Blink hopped out of the way of the microwave radiation blast that erupted from Holocaust's cannon arm without warning. She had no spikes to charge with her mutant power, so she had no means of attacking Holocaust directly.

So she improvised. She teleported behind Holocaust, and, using surprise to her advantage, she hopped onto his back, wrapping arms around his neck.

Holocaust flailed around, swinging his arms wildly. Blink held on for dear life, when it occurred to her. . .

"Foolish child!" Holocaust screamed. "You know that you are unable to teleport charge any living thing!"

Blink placed her hands on Holocaust's crystal armor, feeling mutant energies flow through her. "Maybe," she answered Holocaust, "but I'm betting your life support armor, a NON-living thing, is a different story. So let's dance, buddy!"

As soon as Holocaust's armor was completely charged with teleportational energy, Blink leapt off him. She hit the ground, running fast. She was not immune to her own powers, as far as she knew. She didn't want to be near Holocaust when his armor exploded.

Of course, she hadn't counted on Holocaust chasing after her. "Come back here, Blink!" he screamed.

Blink turned around just in time to see Holocaust leap toward her. His armor had changed from glowing orange to glowing pink. He was a giant Blink-bomb, ready to go off.

Before Holocaust could slam into her, a figure sprung in front of him.

The suitor. Somehow, he had survived Holocaust's brutal attack, and was now leaping to save Blink from him. He obviously didn't realize that what he was about to do was suicide.

As the two bodies collided, Blink screamed in defiance. Then she plunged out of the darkness. . .

"Ahhhhhh!!!!!" Blink screamed as she woke from her nightmare. She sat up on the couch, wheezing in relief. "A dream. Just a dream."

She looked around the room, remembering where she was. Parker's apartment. She noticed Wild Child and Mr. Creed kneeling over an inert body of a red haired woman lying on the floor. She hopped off the couch, racing over to the unconscious woman, who was already surrounded by Blink's two partners.

"Hiya, pup," Mr. Creed greeted her genially. "Have a bad dream?"

Blink nodded. "I'll be okay." She looked at Mr. Creed again and gaped in surprise. "Mister Creed, what happened to you?!!"

He smiled, unintentionally showing his fangs. "I got hit by a truck fulla soap and shave. Dirt and my sideburns were the casualties, but I got away okay." He leaned toward Blink and Wild Child and took a quick sniff. "Woo!!! Smells like you and Kyle could benefit from a similar attack."

Mary Jane

The red haired woman moaned softly, slowly regaining consciousness. Creed looked at Wild Child, silently indicating to him that he should get lost. Wild Child obeyed, scampering off to the kitchen. Blink helped Mr. Creed place the woman onto the couch, and then joined Wild Child in the kitchen.

The woman's eyes finally fluttered open. While unconscious, she dreamed briefly about a blond man creature with sharp teeth and orange spandex, grinning like a ten year old boy in a candy store. Now she was staring into the face of a blond man, who was grinning at her with sharp teeth, and in orange spandex, no less, but this man creature was much larger than the one she had dreamed about.

"Hi," she whimpered, intimidated. "I'm Mary Jane. Mary Jane Parker."

Mr. Creed nodded and returned her greeting with a grunt. "Sorry my friend scared ya, MJ," he apologized. "We've had kind of a rough day, so you'll have to excuse our appearances. Peter invited us. Sorta."

The red haired woman looked around and frowned. She only saw one person. God, she hoped this man was schizophrenic or something. If this man was a friend of her husband, she'd kill him when he got home from work.

"Us?"

Mr. Creed remembered that Blink and Wild Child were still in the kitchen. "Oh, yeah. I got two other friends in the kitchen."

Mary Jane hopped off the couch and ran to the kitchen to see what this huge bodybuilder vampire was talking about. Sure enough, there were two more people in the kitchen. Wild Child, who was raiding the refrigerator, spun around in reaction to the racing footsteps and instantly forgot about getting food. When he got sight of the redhead running into the kitchen, his eyes fixed on her bouncing breasts, and, instantly aroused, he looked up from her breasts to her beautiful (but hysterical) face and smiled once again.

"Hi, there," he said, the smile pasted onto his face.

Blink looked from the woman to Wild Child. It was the first time Blink had ever heard Wild Child talk.

Mary Jane looked at the blond, skinny animal-man, and then turned her gaze to the pink (!), elf-like girl. The girl looked from her companion to the woman.

"Hi," she said, following her partner's lead, with a guilty smile on her face.

Mary Jane grabbed her forehead, sensing that a headache was on the horizon. She moaned angrily, jumping up and down in frustration. As she did so, Wild Child continued to watch her, fascinated by the bouncy movements of her body as she threw her tantrum.

"Peter!!!!" Mary Jane shouted to her absent husband as she continued to throw her tantrum. "You are in BIG trouble when you get home, buster!"

   [1]: mailto:gstebbin@clarityconnect.com



	7. Chapter Five

**Blinking Chaos  
by [Gouki][1]  
Chapter Five**

Parker

Peter Parker was not looking forward to getting home from his job at the Daily Bugle that evening. He had forgotten that his wife Mary Jane would be getting home from work earlier than usual that afternoon, and he hadn't had time to prepare her for the three "guests" that Spider-Man had invited over. She wouldn't be happy with him for letting three "fugitives from an alternate timeline," as the Blink girl put it, in their apartment without at least telling her first. He'd have to make this up to her big time.

He just hoped that the three of them had the sense to take advantage of his bathroom and shower up before she'd gotten home, otherwise he'd really be in for it.

Mary Jane Parker was a professional super model, and as such, she occasionally left town for photo shoots. Peter usually hated it when she went out on business because she added some spice to his life, but this time, he genuinely wished she had taken that photo shoot in Hawaii.

She'd always tell him about the adventurous life of being a super model. Peter hoped that the trip home would not be too adventurous for her.

All of a sudden his Spider Sense went ballistic. Some crazy supervillain-wannabe had started to terrorize City Hall. He sighed as he ran off to change into his Spider-Man costume. Boy, was he gonna get it when he got home. But, those were the breaks.

Sometimes, he hated being a super hero.

The Guests

Mr. Creed had spent the last couple of hours explaining to Mary Jane how he, along with Blink and Wild Child, were all from an alternate timeline, how they traveled to her timeline via the M'Kraan Crystal, their brief tussle with Spider-Man, and his invitation to this apartment. He didn't tell her too much about the timeline which they originated from, since he suspected she didn't believe very much of it, as her eyebrows kept popping up during the more unbelievable parts of his tale.

"It's not like I don't believe your story, Mr. Creed," Mary Jane said after he had finished, "but I'm not so sure I understand the whole M'Kraan Crystal thing."

Mr. Creed shrugged. He didn't completely understand the whole idea himself, except that it worked. "I really can't help ya out there, MJ. I was never really good with the whole sci-fi aspect of this whole mess."

Wild Child scratched at his right ear while he admired Mary Jane Parker, who was at the refrigerator searching for a beer. She didn't drink often, but she suddenly felt the urge to let some alcohol help her cope with her new situation. She was no longer intimidated by her guests nor angry at her husband for inviting them, but it was still difficult to take all of it in. Having this "Wild Child" staring at her constantly didn't help much, but at least now he was clean. Before they had told Mary Jane their tale, she had insisted that Wild Child take a shower and clean up his old dirty X-Man uniform before she would take him up on his offer to give her a neck massage. Wild Child had emerged from the bathroom half an hour after she told him this, scrubbed clean and shaved, wrapped in one of Peter's bathrobes, immediately disappointed that Mary Jane wasn't exactly serious about accepting his offer. Blink had assured her that Kyle was harmless to her, and that he would behave himself for the most part.

Blink was surprised to see Mr. Creed after a shower and shave, but she literally didn't recognize Wild Child after he had done so. She suspected that Mary Jane was very relieved to see Kyle cleaned up. While Mr. Creed and Wild Child were examining the effects of soap and razors on each other, Blink decided that it was her turn for the same treatment.

Upon reaching the bathroom, she noticed she was missing something. She ran out of the bathroom, and back into the kitchen. She turned to Mary Jane.

She tapped Mrs. Parker on the shoulder. "Yes?" Mary Jane asked, sipping from her can of beer.

"Um," she mumbled, "I think Mr. Creed and Kyle used up all of the soap an' um-" Her voice trailed off. Hygiene was one of the many things she didn't generally discuss with strangers.

Mary Jane looked at this girl, who Mr. Creed had told her was a rough soldier who fought against oppression in a hellish world where death and misery were common facts of life. But Blink didn't look so battle-hardened to Mary Jane. She believed that this kid was cast into a role which she wasn't necessarily meant for, at the expense of a normal life. A normal life full of day to day stuff that she took for granted. This girl seemed scared to face the normal aspects of life that everyone else took for granted.

Mary Jane smiled. "Wash up," she said. "I'll show you where everything else is, and how to use the stuff, 'kay?"

Blink nodded, and headed for the bathroom.

To tell the truth, Mary Jane didn't really buy much of Mr. Creed's story at first. All her guests had done since she had arrived home was drink beer and empty the refrigerator. But as she watched Blink, she noticed the nervousness of her step, the constant looking over her shoulder, the tenseness of her muscles, as if the mutant girl were pumped full of adrenaline, ready for some evil attack. Whether or not Mr. Creed's story was true, Blink was certainly someone who had never known a moments peace, that much Mary Jane was certain of. And she didn't trust anybody, that much was also clear. The girl had cringed when Mr. Creed had told Mary Jane the real names of himself and Wild Child, and she didn't bother to give her own real name, just Blink.

And Wild Child. At first, she found him slightly annoying with his constant, deliberate staring. He did look much better after a shower and shave and some clean clothes, but his attitude hadn't changed much. As a model, she had learned to live with the fact that millions of men had fantasies about her, and when she walked down the streets most days, she could feel the stares of the men who wanted her, as well as the glares of their girlfriends or wives. But Kyle, this so-called "Wild Child," looked at her with something different in his eyes, something more than the obvious sexual craving that his eyes boasted. Mary Jane suspected that he lived a type of life that didn't allow him the luxury of falling in love.

The only one she wasn't so sure about was Mr. Creed. So far, he had thrown down enough beer to get a least a half dozen hard drinkers to pass out, but he hardly looked even tipsy. The only thing she could read from him was a sense of shame, something that he kept buried deep down. From the look of him, Mary Jane didn't think it would be wise to dig any deeper than that.

For now.

Blink

Blink couldn't remember the last time she'd had a bath this comforting. The water was as hot as she could stand it, with a thick layer of soapy foam resting above it. She let herself submerge completely into the water, clamping her eyes shut and holding her breath for as long as she possibly could before surfacing again. She could feel the skin on the palms of her hands wrinkling, and struggled to remember the last time she had experienced this.

She was eight years old back then. It was a time when she spent more time trying to get out of taking a bath, more interested in spending just a few more minutes watching television.

She sighed contentedly. Taking bubble baths was definitely something she would do more often in this new world. She had been clean for a couple of hours, but didn't feel like getting out of the tub. She was too comfortable.

Comfort is a drug. Blink lived most of her life without it, and now she was positively intoxicated. The soothing aromas and perfumes of the soaps that cleansed her had now permeated her senses, and she breathed in the pleasant scents of violets and spice.

For the briefest of moments, she wondered how Mr. Creed and Kyle had spent only a couple of hours each taking showers, but she had the answer as soon as she'd finished asking the question. Mr. Creed and Wild Child knew the dangers of letting their guard down in the Age of Apocalypse, and those instincts certainly carried on over in this new world. Blink herself intended only to spend about half an hour cleaning up, but her survival instincts were soon forgotten after she spent just five minutes with bubble bath.

But, she knew that all things, good or bad, had to end sometime. The hot soapy water in which she lazily relaxed was starting to cool down. She reached for the switch below the tub faucet which controlled the drain and flipped it, and then watched as the water around her spiraled out of sight. She then grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her body, which felt about ten years younger after the shower.

Walking over to the fogged mirror, she wiped it clear with a smaller towel and looked at the reflection with deep curiosity. She hardly recognized the sixteen year old girl who stared back at her.

She couldn't find her uniform after she had finished the bath, so she wandered over to the bedroom of the apartment to borrow some of Mary Jane's clothes. Unfortunately, all of Mary Jane Parker's clothes were a size larger than what would fit her. She gave up searching for clothes that would fit after five minutes of running through the closet and drawers. Frustrated, she sat down on Peter and Mary Jane's king-sized bed, holding the towel that was tightly wrapped around her body securely in place.

"Well," she sighed, "this is just great. I can just see some sort of sudden emergency arising, and here I'll be, naked and dripping wet, with nothing but a towel to defend myself." Yeah, fat chance of that. She'd find something to wear, the emergencies would just have to wait until she got some clothes. She looked around once again, wondering if Peter's clothes would fit. He wasn't much taller than she was, and he was kind of skinny, or so he appeared in the pictures of him and his wife that she had seen so far. She hopped off the bed and examined Peter's clothes.

"These'll do," she murmured after selecting a pair of faded blue jeans and a sweatshirt. The jeans looked like they would be slightly tight on her, but at least they were somewhere in the vicinity of her size. She didn't care too much for the blah-gray sweater, but it was practically the only thing that she could find that wasn't slightly see-through. Really, that wouldn't have mattered to her, except that all of Mary Jane's bras were a couple of sizes too big for her. Since she couldn't find one that fit her, see-through clothing (and yes, even the stuff that was only slightly see-through) was totally out of the question.

"Well," she said, thinking out loud, "I hope Peter doesn't mind me bumming his clothes."

She ventured out of the bedroom, dressed in clothes that were, incredibly enough, tight even on her small frame, to find that Peter Parker had arrived home. She saw him walk over to the couch, where Mary Jane sat, sleeping peacefully alongside a loudly snoring Wild Child. Mr. Creed was asleep on the floor, laying next to the couch. Peter nudged his wife gently, trying to wake her up without startling her. She mumbled incoherently as she awakened.

"Peter?" she moaned sleepily. "What're you doin' home so late, Tiger? It's almost 2:30"

He smiled guiltily. "'Spider-Man' had to stop some crazy super villain-wannabe from wrecking City Hall. It was on the news, babe, didn't you see it?" She shook her head. "Well, anyway, I had to stop the bad guy, get pictures of the whole adventure, and then go back to the Bugle with the pictures, before I could get home. I'm sorry I didn't call you."

Mary Jane looked at the young man sleeping next to her before she continued her talk with her husband. "You're, uh, guests have been quite entertaining," she said with a yawn.

Peter prepared for her to freak out. "Listen, baby, I would have called you to tell you about them, but-"

Mary Jane took Peter's face in her hands and kissed him passionately. "Don't worry about it, Tiger," she said, "we all had a good time, talking about parallel timelines and other great science fiction."

Blink coughed politely to get their attention. She had already arrived at the couch, unnoticed by both of them.

"Um, hi," she said with a smile. "Peter Parker? I'm Clarice Ferguson."

Peter grabbed her right hand and shook it vigorously. For such a skinny, diminutive guy, he had a strong grip. "Pleased to meet you, Clarice."

Blink looked down at the clothes she was wearing and then back to Peter. She smiled, a tad embarrassed. "I hope you don't mind me borrowing some of your clothes, but I seem to have lost my uniform after I finished my bath."

Mary Jane carefully eased her way out of Blink's view, suddenly feeling guilty. She had thrown away the girl's ripped, bloodied, and otherwise mysteriously soiled uniform after it had shrunk two sizes in the wash. She looked to her husband, the guilty look on her face indicating that Blink's missing uniform was her fault.

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, that's okay. At least until we can get you and your friends some new clothes."

Mr. Creed rolled around on the floor, snoring softly. Peter looked at him and Wild Child and then back to Blink. Blink leaned down to Wild Child and examined her sleeping friend's right ear, which was red from all the scratching Wild Child had given it in an attempt to stop the constant itching. She sighed and then gently scratched behind his ear as he slumbered.

"We know we can't stay here forever," Blink said to Peter and Mary Jane, "but we don't have any money or jobs or-"

Peter nodded. "We understand, don't we MJ?" He looked to his wife, and she nodded. "I know a person that might be able to help you out. His name is Charles Xavier."

She nodded. "Yeah, I think I've heard of Xavier," she said softly. "Isn't he in charge of some group called 'X-Men' or something?"

Blink already knew the answer to her own question, but she asked anyway to discover just what the Parkers knew about the X-Men and what kind of new information she could get about this world. She needed information if she was going to survive, but the information she needed wasn't just the kind one could just go ahead and ask for. The world looked alright, especially the way things were going, but Blink knew that Apocalypse had some pretty creative telepaths that were capable of making their victims see anything the High Lord wanted them to see. She knew that the idea of the three of them being under a telepathic trance was unlikely, especially since she was able to be suspicious of it, but she did not want to completely let her guard down, as Mr. Creed and Kyle had apparently done earlier that evening.

She carried a conversation with Mary Jane and Peter for an hour and a half, going over the holes that Mr. Creed had left in his descriptive story of the events and timeline that had brought the three of them to the Parker home, being very careful not to give away what she knew about the X-Men in her timeline, and subtly picking up information about the status of mutants in this new world. She carefully steered the conversation toward finding this reality's version of her when she was satisfied that Peter and Mary Jane were indeed not cleverly placed spies of Apocalypse and that they didn't have any information past what she pretended not to know. Finally, Peter led her to the modest PC that he owned, and revealed to her a method of potentially tracking down her "other self."

"It's called the Internet," Peter said as Blink sat down in front of the computer, "and you can find almost anything on it. Only be careful. Some of the stuff is pretty useless, but most of it should help you out. But maybe we should wait until morning. You look like you haven't had much sleep, kid."

She shook her head. "No, really, I'm not tired right now."

Peter shrugged. "Okay."

He explained the basics: how to sign on, how to get to places, typing addresses, search engines, until she finally waved him away with a "Yeah, yeah, I got it" and he finally went off to bed, leaving her to the near-mesmerizing glow of the computer monitor. She found this computer a lot easier to use then the ones from her "world." Back home, the computers were a lot more confusing, and required many codes to be typed in for it to carry out commands. Here all she needed to know was how to point and click with the strange little "mouse" device.

_Mouse?_ she thought. _What a strange name for a computer instrument._

Slowly, she typed in the address of one of the search engines that Peter had given her in his brief lesson, and then typed in her own name, not expecting much for results.

Of course, when the search engine brought up 5,698 documents on the Internet that matched either "Clarice" or "Ferguson" she discovered that she might be a while searching. After a half hour of scanning titles of pages, she narrowed her choices down to sixteen. It took another half an hour to look through all of the pages to discover that none of them were of any use to her. She leaned back in her chair, frowning thoughtfully.

She tried a different search engine, again typing in her name. Once again, she was faced with thousands of pages to choose from. Frustrated, she chose the first page that the engine brought up. It was a home page of a YMCA swim team in Central New York. She didn't think it was likely she would find much concerning her there, because she remembered being terrified of water when she was little. Morbid curiosity compelled her to research the page further, just to see exactly what the whole "swim team" deal was about.

Nothing. Just a name. No photos on the page, no past history. Of course, Blink hadn't fully expected to find any of that information. The whole page was just a list of names of members and events the team had accomplished or was about to accomplish. She'd almost exited the page when she saw something else that caught her eye.

"Oh my God," she whispered. She walked away from the computer, not bothering to turn it off.

And without another thought, she split open the fabric of time and space with her teleportation powers, stepping out of the relative safety of Peter Parker's humble New York City apartment, through her trans-dimensional portal.

Into the fire.

   [1]: mailto:gstebbin@clarityconnect.com



	8. Chapter Six

**Blinking Chaos  
by [Gouki][1]  
Chapter Six**

Parker's Place

Mr. Creed woke up, rubbing his eyes and scratching the back of his head. He had forgotten for a moment where he was exactly. He looked at the expensive, spotless television set and clean carpet, and remembered that he was in Peter Parker's apartment. He had been sleeping on the couch, with three tiny blankets to cover him: one for his legs, the other two for his midsection and chest. He brushed them away, and sat up slowly.

The too-clean smell of this place bothered him slightly. He was still used to the aromas of ash, dirt, and decay from his Age of Apocalypse home. He shook his head vigorously, trying to banish the last bit of sleepiness from his head. He scratched his chin, and then felt the sides of his face. The sideburns he'd shaved away were already starting to reappear, as if to insist on maintaining his wolfish appearance and keep him scary looking. He grunted, and noted to himself that he'd have to take another trip to the bathroom later to shave away the new stubble, but for right now he wanted something raw and bloody to munch on.

He sniffed in the direction of the kitchen, searching for food smells. No such luck. There was meat in the freezer, but it was all cooked or processed. Yuck. Why bother to eat meat if all the taste is gonna be cooked away?

He decided to settle for a beer. Maybe a cigar too, if he could find one. Not likely, since Peter and his wife seemed almost toxin free. He could smell faint traces of tobacco from Mary Jane, but nothing too recent. He guessed that she'd been a smoker once, but had quit a while ago. Hmph. The smell of tobacco on her was faint indeed, too faint for most normal humans to detect, and almost too faint for his sensitive nose. Peter had never smoked in his life, Mr. Creed could tell, but a strange smell stung his nose that suggested mild radiation.

Radiation? Nahh, geek boy couldn't be radioactive. He was too cleany-cleany for that to be the case. The smell had to be something else, there was no way a human could survive levels of radiation high enough to leave a lingering scent. If they did, it would probably end up altering one's genetic structure, which...

Well, okay, when you put it that way, maybe it does explain his Spider-Man powers.

But it still didn't explain where he could find a cigar! The craving for tobacco now almost equalled his craving to kill when he was a pup. Suddenly he didn't feel hungry or thirsty anymore. He just wanted a smoke.

"Okay, cool it, Vic," he muttered to himself. "Ya won't die if ya don't get a smoke."

Trying to get his mind off his tobacco craving, he wandered into the office where Peter had taken Blink to show her how to use the computer to search the Internet. That was odd, because she never really had much luck with computers back home.

He approached the monitor, stared into the still glowing screen, and smiled.

"Forgot to shut the thing down 'fore ya went ta sleep, pup?"

He peered into the screen, looking at a graphic from a website that Blink had found. He looked at the display.

And suddenly, he felt sick to his stomach.

"Aw, shit," he groaned. "Of all the things she coulda stumbled onto."

Of all the ways they'd been screwed over during their lives in the Age of Apocalypse, this had to be the most unfair thing that could happen to them. He sniffed the air quickly, and, not picking up any recent trace of her scent, he slammed his fist onto the desk angrily.

"Boss?" Wild Child said with a start, running into the office. "What's wrong?"

"She's gone, Kyle," Mr. Creed muttered, "gone off to God-knows-where, and she didn't even leave a note. Aw, I'm sorry, pup."

"S'wrong?" Wild Child growled, scratching his ear.

Mr. Creed didn't answer but instead groaned, "Why'd she have ta start learnin' about computers NOW?"

The Xavier Institute for Higher Learning  
Westchester, New York

Blink fought back tears of rage as she stomped through the hallways of the school, searching for the legendary Professor X.

Charles Xavier, the man whose life she and her fellow X-Men fought to save, so that the hellish timeline they had lived, no, existed through, would be corrected.

The man who had betrayed her.

"Xavier!" she hollered angrily into the seemingly empty study she had entered.

No answer. She absolutely could not believe this. How could this be happening, after everything that had happened to her? When she found him, she wasn't sure what she'd do, but knew that he had to pay for his crimes...

"My crimes?" a soft, almost childlike voice answered her thoughts, filled with pain and wisdom. "Tell me, how have I wronged you?"

Blink spun around with a start, attempting to suppress the gasp that begged to betray her sudden unease. She took in the sight of a slim bald man in a floating gold-colored wheelchair, partially obscured by the shadows of the unlit room, his deep blue eyes seemingly the only feature that she could see. His stare was one of genuine care and concern, one that bored deep into the depths of her soul.

She met it with one of the most hateful looks she could muster.

This did not last, however, and she collapsed to her knees, bursting into sobs of despair and rage. Her cries echoed all over the darkened room, and she found herself not resisting when Xavier hummed over to her and lifted her off the floor. Numbly, she rested her head against his shoulder as he gently carried her out of the room, allowing herself to be soothed by his nurturing telepathic bio-rhythms until she fell asleep.

As the events of the past few days slowly faded from her thoughts, she distinctly sensed one last thought, from Professor Xavier, creep into her mind.

"I will make amends for whatever I have done. I promise."

Xavier sighed as he set the mutant girl gently into the bed of his guest bedroom, and exited with new troubles to burden his already frustrated mind.

Wolverine

"Bein' a good lil' cub, sittin' around in yer lil' forest playground," Logan growled, stalking up to the man who, just two days ago, had been all but lobotomized by severe trauma to the skull and brain, and was now lazing about in his new paradise. The forest was a false holographic representation provided by the Shi'ar technology worked into the Danger Room, but it was enough to keep Sabretooth calm and quiet.

Hearing Logan's voice, Sabretooth timidly sat up from the patch of grass and gazed at him. A sound escaped 'Tooth's lips, somewhere between a puppy's eager whine and a child's moan in frightened anticipation of a feared punishment, as Logan neared him. Logan hadn't faced Sabretooth since their last confrontation two days ago, but now something compelled him to face this loathed creature-person.

What he would do now, he had absolutely no idea of. Right now, he settled on just talking, since Sabretooth apparently couldn't talk back, and didn't seem to be willing to provoke a duel between the two of them.

Sabretooth's eyes widened slightly as Logan's hands reached for his head. He quivered as he felt fingers slide behind the back of his head and brought him closer to Logan. His breathing slowed, slowed, slowed, as Logan's face neared closer and closer to his own.

"Lissen up, Creed," Logan whispered softly, "you may a' been pullin' off some Academy Award winnin' stuff with the rest o' the X-Men, but I ain't so forgivin'. This 'sweet lil' newborn kitty-cat' act won't fool me as easily as it does them. I so much as IMAGINE you fakin' this act and revertin' back to bad person Sabretooth..."

Logan let go of Sabretooth's head, and the wet sound of muscle, skin and blood being ripped with a chunking, sloshing, SCHLICK!!! caused the seemingly gentle creature to start as three bone claws popped out of his hand.

He waved them meaningfully at Sabretooth's face, finishing, "...I'll finish what I started with yer brain a coupla days ago. Meantime, sit around in yer lil' forest and be a good lil' cub."

He left Sabretooth rattled and quivering in his "forest." If Sabretooth was faking his amnesia and inabilities to communicate, Logan had given him the message that he wouldn't get away with it. If he WASN'T faking, Logan knew that at least the "gist" of the message had been communicated.

Either way, Logan let him know who was in charge.

Beast

Dr. Henry "Hank" P. McCoy ambled down the corridors of the second level basement, humming to himself the tune from the Rolling Stones "I Can't Get No Satisfaction" and keeping the plate of raw meat and warm milk as far from his nose as humanly (or, in Hank's case, as Beastly) possible to avoid the smell. He was on his way to the Danger Room to feed his patient, Sabretooth, and keeping as positive an attitude as he could about the situation. Sure, the smell of raw meat and warm milk bothered him, and Sabretooth was the last person any one in the Xavier Institute wanted to be delivering snacks to, but it could be worse.

Exactly how it could be worse, Hank wasn't quite certain of at the moment, but at least Sabretooth was maintaining a gentle demeanor.

Ever since the X-Men had returned to the Xavier Institute two days ago and found Sabretooth ripped, burnt, and nearly lobotomized by their teammate Wolverine, emotions among the team were in slight disarray.

It seemed that while the universe (and all of reality as they knew it, for that matter) had been saved, the X-Men were falling apart. Thinking that they'd soon be destroyed by the M'Kraan Crystal's reality destroying crystallization wave, Rogue and Remy kissed in a desperate attempt to share at least one physical act together. When the wave disappeared right before the X-Men's eyes, they found a terrified Rogue holding a comatose Remy, her mind filled to overflowing with his dark secrets and painful memories. She had dropped him and had flown off into the night sky. Scott sent Bobby after her almost immediately, to find out what she had discovered that shocked her so much. Bobby didn't return however, and for that matter, neither did Rogue. Bishop had taken to flipping out every now and then, sometimes unable to discern reality from fantasy and retiring to his rest quarters, complaining of severe migraine headaches. Granted, Bishop was never very social to begin with, coming from an alternate future where the X-Men were betrayed and murdered by one of their own members, but since his return from Israel after preventing Legion from destroying the past, he seemed uneasy, maybe even slightly hostile toward the other X-Men. And to top it all off, Logan had taken to staying outside of the mansion after he nearly killed Sabretooth. All the X-Men had tried to convince him that they didn't blame him for what he did, but he insisted on distancing himself from the X-Men and especially Sabretooth.

Hank ran into Logan four yards from the doors of the Danger Room. Holding the plate away from his nose, he waved at Logan cheerfully and stopped humming.

"Logan! Ceasing your self-imposed exile after only two days?"

Logan shook his head and grunted, "No, Hank. I just had something important ta say to the jerk that I poked in the head with my claw. On my way back to my self-imposed exile right now."

Hank smiled sadly. "Logan, we realize you're upset about Sabretooth, but you've been outside for the past two days--"

Logan cut him off sharply with a raised hand. "--an' I'll stay outside s'long as that maniac is alive an' in the house. I laid down the law with Creed, but if I stay in here much longer I'll end up killin' the worthless fucking bastard. This ain't 'bout bein' ashamed o' what I did to Creed. This is 'bout what'll happen to me if I have to be in the same vicinity as that jerk."

And with that, Logan was gone, so fast that Hank almost didn't see him leave.

"Oh well. Just realize that we all will be available to support you, should you require us."

A hole in space opened before Hank, outlined by a ring of pink fire.

"Oh, my stars and garters," he whispered. With a curiosity that stemmed from his years of science study, he approached the hole, and peered into it, the plate of food for Sabretooth forgotten for the second time since he made his way to the Danger Room. "A transportal. How fascinating."

Sabretooth's meal would have to wait. Hank set the plate down and looked into the transportal once again, noting that it seemed to originate from within the mansion, judging from the surroundings. The guest bedroom on the second floor, more accurately. The 'portal's source of origin seemed to be the young mutant girl sleeping in the bed of the guest bedroom. From beneath her closed lids, her eyes were glowing bright pink, with tiny rays of light sneaking out from them.

She was in R.E.M. sleep, or Rapid Eye Movement, which meant she was dreaming. Judging from the appearance of the portal, her profuse perspiration, and disturbed tossing and turning, Hank guessed that whatever she was dreaming about was not pleasant.

"Charles?" he called out mentally, knowing that Professor Charles Xavier would detect his call telepathically.

*Yes, Henry?* Xavier answered.

"You don't happen to have a guest that you didn't tell the X-Men about, do you?" Hank inquired.

*As a matter of fact I do, Henry. She is sleeping at the moment,--*

"--in the guest room, perhaps?"

*Naturally. Is something wrong?*

"Not necessarily. Your guest seems to have utilized her mutant abilities while she is dreaming. She seems disturbed by the dreams."

*A portal?*

"Yes. One opened right in front of me as I journeyed to the Danger Room to deliver Sabretooth's meal to him. It leads to the guest room. Should I enter the portal to tend to the girl, or shall I remain an observer whilst she lay in agitated dreamsleep?"

*Stay where you are, Henry. While she sleeps, she could close the portal at any time, and I don't want you to take that risk. Jean and I will tend to the girl, if she is in any distress. Deliver Creed's meal, and meet us in the guest room promptly.*

Blue-furred Hank sketched a mock salute and nodded. "Will do, Charles."

However, before he could leave, the girl awoke, took one good look at him, and leapt at him through her portal.

Murder was in her eyes.

"Nuts," Hank muttered.

The girl closed the gap between calm and chaos.

   [1]: mailto:gstebbin@clarityconnect.com



	9. Chapter Seven

**Blinking Chaos  
by [Gouki][1]  
Chapter Seven**

Fast Forward

Weapon X and Prelate Cyclops were not conscious for several hours. They were sprawled out in a heap across a hard wooden floor, not moving and not making any noises. In fact, the only indication that they were even alive was the fog that surrounded their noses and mouths as they breathed: shallow, weak actions on their part.

And then, slowly, Weapon X stirred, moaning softly. Deliriously, his eyelids fluttered open, a psychedelic distortion of his senses artificially enhancing the lights of the cold, uncomfortable room, making it appear more brightly lit than it actually was. Instinctively, he brought his left arm up to his eyes, using the metal stump which covered his handless wrist to shield his eyes from the harsh lights as he supported himself with his right hand.

That was where he realized something was wonderfully wrong.

The metal stump on his wrist was gone.

He gazed in wide wonder at the wrist, where his hand had been amputated, and in a confused moment, realized that there was, in fact, a hand in front of his face. He jumped to his feet in a shock, and examined both arms.

Sure enough, both of his wrists had hands attached.

He should have been happy, he realized that much, but seeing a left hand jutting from his wrist seemed to be too good to be true. He wriggled the fingers on this new hand, closing them into a fist, and tapping them at air to see if he could feel the coldness on his skin. His suspicions that the hand was artificial were dispelled when he felt the tingle of blood rushing through the hand's veins.

Thus far, he had not spoken, perhaps fearing that the sound would make the hand disappear. He hadn't had the luxury of having two hands for a year and a half, and now he could feel the prickly sensation of pins and needles surging through his left hand. He must have been laying on it while he was unconscious.

"This has gotta be some sorta dream," he whispered.

"No," a gentle female voice responded from across the room, "you can rest assured that this is real."

Weapon X swiveled his head to the direction of the voice. It was one he recognized, and to him, it was the most important voice in the world.

"Jeanny?" he gasped, his eyes widening in hopeful anticipation.

He couldn't see her, but he immediately knew who she was. She was concealed in the shadows of the dimly lit room, but no shadows could conceal the way she smelled. A rich, violet scented perfume, and the scent of expensive shampoo emanated from her skin, hair, and clothes, but they could not disguise her delicate scent from his enhanced senses.

It was Jean Grey. Weapon X soon forgot his new left hand and rushed to the woman he loved, preparing to embrace her and kiss her passionately.

But as she stepped out of the shadows, he realized something was very wrong. She was wearing different clothes than her usual X-Man uniform, and while that was unimportant, she was missing the tattoos on her face and her hair had grown much longer than he remembered it.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

Gazed at her in confusion.

And then he heard another voice which sounded surreally like his own.

"Don't take another step, bub," the rough voice growled.

This voice came from speakers which were placed in the ceiling of the cold room, so Weapon X couldn't detect the voice's owner using his enhanced sense of smell.

"That's right," the voice continued, "just take it easy."

Weapon X looked around the room, searching for the speakers, and possibly some visual reference of whoever was talking to him.

"Jean Grey" looked at a mirrored window to an unseen observer and waved her hand cautiously. "It's okay, Logan," she said urgently. "He won't hurt me."

Logan? That was Weapon X's real name. He looked at the Jean Grey double in confusion and rubbed his temples, trying to massage away the ensuing headache which threatened him.

"I'm sure you are very confused," she said to him in a very reassuring tone. "But we can work all of this out."

Upon hearing that last statement, Weapon X passed out, and fell to the wooden floor with an echoing thud.

Rewind

The Beast invaded her dreams. He was just as ugly as ever: hideous blue-black fur, terrible spiky projections jutting from his back and elbows, long coarse black hair flowing past his shoulder blades like a waterfall of sludge. His metallic-blue pants reflected the harsh bright lights of the operating room; Beast as the doctor, Blink as his patient.

Blink did not enjoy the comfort of a hospital bed. No, she was in an upright position, naked and manacled to an operating stand, fearfully watching as the Beast hummed cheerfully, filling a syringe with a vile green fluid and squeezing out the air-bubbles within it. He picked up a ball of cotton, soaked it with alcohol, and it he daintily rubbed Blink's left arm.

"There we go," he murmured gently. "Now try and remain still, my dear niece. If this syringe is jostled whilst I inject it into your body, it may well be fatal. So no wriggling, or Uncle Hank will have to find a new little patient to operate on."

Beast had a partner waiting behind him, just a child, Blink's age maybe. He was holding a clipboard with various charts and graphs composed in such a haphazard way that only the Beast could possibly hope to decipher it. He smiled lovingly at his partner and patted him on the head in a sickeningly sweet manner. "That's a good lad, Georgie," he said as he took the clipboard, "you may make it into Apocalypse's Med School yet. Shoo, off with you now. Uncle Hank's got mutie surgery to attend to, and he mustn't be disturbed as he does so."

Blink shuddered at the name "Uncle Hank." Beast wasn't any uncle she'd want. He wasn't even any acquaintance she'd want. He leered at her with a sickening grin, bringing the needle ever closer to her arm, and she wondered painfully how the Catholic god she'd been raised to believe in could ever let her come to this. Would her god really let this maniac doctor dissect her and throw her into the gene vats? She squirmed as he touched the tip of the needle against her arm and started to cry.

"Ah, dear me," Beast sighed, taking the needle away from her arm, "are you really THAT afraid of needles, my little faery? Most eleven-year-old girl mutants are much braver at the Doc's office. If you think this is scary, you should see Sinister's operating table. Yeesh. Now there's a sick motherfucker, lemme tell ya."

He set the needle down and studied Blink with the look of both curious doctor and sick pervert. "No, Sinister doesn't see science the way I do. With him it's so cold, so, so, TECHNICAL. No fun involved, whatsoever. Well, I like fun sprinkled in with my work. And you look like fun."

With that, he reached for a sterile, empty needle. He tied a tourniquet around Blink's arm, and then poked the needle into the bulging vein in the crook of her arm. Smiling as she winced, Beast giggled in fascination, watching the blood fill the vial. He dabbed the needle wound on her arm with iodine and affixed a bandage to it, and then brought the vial of blood over to his blood analysis workstation. Forgetting his previous task of injecting DNA toxins into Blink's body, he studied the blood sample he'd just taken and marveled over his new private DNA.

"...no, I can't have the original fairy...nobody said I couldn't make a fairy of my own...nobody needs to know about this one...all mine"

Nausea and headaches surged through Blink as Beast rambled on to himself, and soon a shockwave blasted through her, frying her thoughts and switching her to instincts and adrenaline. She didn't know what was happening all of a sudden, but knew she had to release whatever was building up inside of her.

And she did just that, lashing out for the first time with a power that was the most destructive known in the world...

...right before she woke up in shock.

There Beast was, just like in her dream, standing there.

Acting on pure instinct, Blink leapt at him, unrestrained and free to kill the vile doctor. He was caught off guard by her sudden charge and moaned, just before she collided with him, "Nuts."

Play

She wrestled Beast to the floor and struggled to reach for his throat. He fought back, not as brutally as she'd braced herself for, but enough to evade her attempts to strangle him, and he swiftly kicked her off of him.

Before she could start for another attack, Beast held up both hands and called out.

"Stop!"

Blink did so, but scowled back. Backing away, she rubbed her head and looked at him again, and then thought about her surroundings. This wasn't the Beast. This was a gentle, blue-furred man with huge hands and feet. No spiky protrusions from the spine or elbows. No coarse black fur or yellow fangs. This man had the look of a scientist or a doctor about him, but not the gleefully evil grin the Beast flashed around to doomed patients and tortured experiments.

He wasn't Apocalypse's Beast. This wasn't Apocalypse's world.

The next sound Blink heard was the ripping and snapping of Wolverine's bone claws popping from their housings in his forearms. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was there close by.

Right behind her.

"Easy, Logan," Beast said in a calm, collected voice which effectively masked his sudden unease. "Just take it easy. Everything's under control."

Blink fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands. The world was putting its weight on her shoulders, and she couldn't withstand the strain of it anymore. Muffled cries filled the hallway, and soon she felt Logan's battle-hardened yet gentle hands touch her shoulders. The soft hum of Professor X's floating wheelchair and the rapid footsteps of the X-Man Phoenix soon filled the hallway, but Blink didn't have the emotional strength to register their presences. She didn't even realize she had fallen into Wolverine's arms, or that she was burying her face into his chest and soaking his shirt with her tears.

Wolverine and Phoenix led Blink out of the hallways of the second level basement, leaving Beast and Professor X to ponder the situation they had gotten themselves into, taking in this unknown girl.

They weren't long in pondering.

*Professor?* Psylocke and Cyclops called out, through Psylocke's telepathy. *We seem to have two guests, unconscious on the front step.*

Professor X smiled grimly. "More guests." Then, telepathically, *Are they people we know; allies or enemies?*

*Well, Charles,* Psylocke said with a bit of confusion in her voice, *one of them appears to be Wolverine.*

*And the other?*

Cyclops spoke next. *Sir, the other one is... me.*

Pause

David did not know what to do. Weapon X and Prelate Cyclops were not supposed to have escaped. No doubt they had been snatched from him by the same girl who had taken Jean Grey, and was now ripping down the walls between Order and Chaos. He had four kids roaming about that didn't even belong in his reality. Jean was STILL missing. Bishop was unable to help him.

And the Continuum was STILL expecting results.

Oh, what would his father say if he saw the mess that was unfolding?

He held his head in frustration and moaned.

"David?"

He looked at the girl that spoke his name. "What are you doing here, In-Betweener?" he snarled in contempt.

She sighed. "I'm not the In-Betweener, David. I severed my ties with that entity long ago to live my own life."

"Whatever," David muttered, looking away from her. "What have you done with Jean Grey?"

His former rival shook her head. "You have to let this go, Legion. David Haller, the mortal, no longer exists. Your passing was mourned, yet still you crave acceptance from those who cannot give it to you."

David's eyes darkened. "Don't ever call me that again."

"Why not? Legion is what you were. If you're not careful, you will become him again. Maybe this time, no one will be able to help you."

He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her up against a wall of clouds. Eyes burning bright green, hair standing on end, he roared, "Don't you dare! I will not be told what not to do by one who nearly destroyed reality herself! Get out of my sight! Hide behind your shadows! Leave me alone!"

Calmly, the girl who was disguised with shadows melted from David's grip and stepped away from him. She shook her head sadly. "I guess this means we're enemies again. I'm sorry, David. I really didn't want it this way."

"This is not over. One way or another, I will get Jean Grey back."

"Legion, this has yet to BEGIN. The next time we meet, one of us will die." With that, she faded into the other shadows.

Stop

Shining brightly, Bishop spoke. "I request permission to take David into custody."

The Elders considered the request for many microseconds, and then replied in unison. "Permission denied."

Bishop sighed. "I thought as much. You do realize, of course, that if left on his present course of action, David will destroy everything, including the Continuum."

"Perhaps. We shall see."

The Elders left.

Bishop loved David like a son, but he knew that the Infant God could not long be nurtured and steered away from chaos. It seemed nothing Bishop did or said could possibly avert that destiny. Bishop was powerful, but power alone doesn't always win battles and wars.

"You heard everything, I presume?"

The shadow girl emerged from her hiding place in the darkness. "Wasn't much to hear, actually. Legion hasn't gone mad yet, but it seems certain that he will soon."

The beam of light that was Bishop brightened, indicating his expression of skepticism. "Certain, is it? Don't be so sure. Your threat to kill him the next time you meet certainly didn't help matters, In-Bet-"

"Don't," she interrupted him. "Don't call me by that name."

He let it go. "You came to ask me to help you, yes? Help you to kill my pupil, my would-be son."

"Bishop, it doesn't have to be this way."

"I will help you, but not to kill him, just to stop him from destroying reality or himself."

With a "Thank you, Mister Bishop," the girl exited in a portal of shadows.

Mister Bishop?

MISTER Bishop?

Bishop laughed until the proverbial tears ran down his cheeks.

The strange thing was, he really didn't find it THAT funny.

   [1]: mailto:gstebbin@clarityconnect.com



	10. Chapter Eight

**Blinking Chaos  
by [Gouki][1]  
Chapter Eight**

The Xavier Institute For Higher Learning

The X-Men were assembled in the observation booth at the Danger Room watching Blink replay with Jean and Scott the events in the Age of Apocalypse that had brought her to their world. The program was one that amazed Blink. First it scanned her memories to recreate the environments she had been in and the people she had interacted with, then it recreated them holographically. A holographic representation of Blink was even included, using video data that the X-Men had provided, so that Blink could see what she looked like in those memories.

The sounds were missing, because Blink requested not to have hear all the horrible sounds of her friends being killed in battle around her, but the effect really had not been lessened. Jean noticed a wince from Blink when the holoprojectors replayed the incident where Morph took a stray blast to the chest and looked to Blink with an almost amused look on his face before sinking to his knees, dead even before his knees touched the ground. Sunfire, always claiming he could not stand Morph, then freaked out and incinerated everything around him, screaming with rage and sadness at the loss of his friend. Blink fought back tears when Shadowcat had foolishly decided not to phase when her insane husband Colossus charged at her in an effort to save his sister Illyana, found herself unable to turn away when his gigantic organic-steel body colliding into Shadowcat's with a hideous snapping and cracking sound.

Jean put a comforting hand on Blink's shoulder. "Let's stop this," she said sympathetically.

"No," Blink said, her face hardening. "I have to let you people see what kind of world I lived in, and besides, we're getting to the important part, right now."

"What are you talking about--Oh!" Jean gasped as she saw the holographic representation of the one-handed Weapon X ruthlessly shredding apart Infinites, a destroyed look on his face, tears flowing endlessly. His emotions, indeed, even his life seemed to be gone until Prelate Cyclops entered the melee with a dying Jean Grey in his arms. At this point, Logan's voice came over the speakers.

"Those're the two, alright," he growled, "only the one runt that looks like me had both his hands when we found 'im at the boat house."

Jean put her hand over her mouth. In essence, she was watching herself be carried helplessly through the brutal battle. Regaining her composure, she listened as Blink explained that this was the point where she made the transition from her world to theirs.

"I guess Weapon X didn't wanna lose the chance to save you," Blink said softly. "I mean, save her. You know what I mean, Phoenix."

Jean nodded. "Yeah, I guess I do." She looked off in the direction of the M'Kraan Crystal. "Computer: Volume On. Isolate conversation between Designates: Prelate Cyclops and Weapon X."

The volume restored, but the conversation between Prelate Cyclops and Weapon X was not available. "Unable to isolate conversation," a synthetic female voice responded. "Data does not exist."

Blink shrugged. "Sorry," she blushed. "It was too noisy and I was too far away from them."

Jean smiled. "That's alright. I was just wondering what they were saying."

They focused their attention to the holographs of Blink and Wild Child as they reacted to Weapon X's actions. He grabbed Prelate Cyclops and Jean Grey, slung them over his shoulders and took off running.

"I don't like the looks of this, Wild Child," Blink mumbled nervously. "We gotta keep them away from this crystal."

Wild Child nodded his understanding and growled his affirmative.

"Hold it right there, Logan!" hologram Blink shouted. "We can't let you do that."

Weapon X looked at her and shook his head. "What're you gonna do about it, pup? You'll have to kill me, you know that. I ain't gonna lose her."

Blink withdrew several darts from her quiver, while Wild Child took on a menacing stance, both of them ready to pounce as Weapon X continued toward the M'Kraan Crystal. Wild Child jumped at Weapon X, who, despite carrying two people over his shoulders, easily dodged the attack, as well as the charged darts that Blink launched at him. The two of them then watched as he jumped into the crystal with his companions, before they too were taken into the M'Kraan by Sabretooth.

"C'mon kids, we're goin' fer a ride!" he had shouted, grabbing by the collars of their uniforms.

Blink looked to Jean and shook her head. "Now you know how we got here," Blink said. "Computer: Stop Playback."

The scene in the Danger Room dissolved, and Blink looked up at the observation booth window. Her eyes found Logan's. He looked away.

"I'm done now," Blink muttered.

"Okay, guys," Scott looked up gave a thumbs-up to the X-Men in the observation booth, "we can bring the Forest Program back up for Sabretooth."

"I don't know why we're bothering to give this jerk such a good life," Logan growled, "but if the little presentation is over, I'm gonna go back outside."

Ororo Munroe appeared outside the Danger Room door with Sabretooth's cage as Jean and Blink were exiting. Blink stopped to look at Sabretooth. His eyes looked so sad, so innocent. His shoulders slumped forward, the sound coming from him was the quiet huff of his breathing. He was naked, except for a pair of blue shorts, made of unstable molecules so that his meanderings in his little forest wouldn't damage them. In his cage was a plate of raw meat that sat untouched, and a pitcher of milk that had been kicked over in disinterest. Seeing the forest, his spirits seemed to lift slightly, and when Ororo ever so carefully opened his cage, he bolted from it and scampered around in the sunny meadow nearby, unmindful of his observer.

Blink watched Sabretooth, fighting back tears. How could this be the same monster she had seen while traveling the M'Kraan Crystal? How could he even still be alive? Of course, she knew the answers to these and most of the other questions she had asked herself, but she still didn't understand all of it. She took a step toward Sabretooth before feeling a hand on her shoulder, holding her back.

"I wouldn't do that just now, young one," Ororo warned kindly. "Sabretooth has not fully adjusted to his injuries yet, and we are unsure of how he would react to someone unfamiliar to him."

Blink scowled. "I'm not helpless you know. Mr. Creed taught me how to fight, and I'm pretty sure I'd be able to take care of myself if Sabretooth decided to flip out."

Nevertheless, she followed Scott and Jean out of the Danger Room, looking back to Sabretooth one last time before the doors closed.

He smiled at her.

* * *

"So," Blink mumbled, as she met up with Logan outside, "how are you, Mr. Logan?"

Logan grunted. He didn't look to be in too good of a mood at the moment. "Do me a favor, pup. Don't call me 'Mister,' okay?"

"Sorry."

The chirping birds and buzzing insects somewhat bothered Blink as she stood in the forest, trying to talk to a man that she was trying her best not to hate. It wasn't like the "birds and the bees" were bothering her, but she didn't really connect with nature much back home. Logan didn't seem like too bad of a person, but she just couldn't get the thought of him stabbing Sabretooth in the brain with his claws, even if that Sabretooth WAS an evil man. She bit her lip and told herself not to hate him, preparing to deliver her interview to him.

For his part, Logan didn't seem too thrilled with Blink. In truth, he didn't particularly trust her, partly because she was brought up by Sabretooth in her world. He was willing to forgive that much, because she was young, but he was not about to take any lip for what he did to Sabretooth from her.

"I'm sorry," Logan said softly, "I mean, about--"

"About Clarice Ferguson dying?" Blink asked. "It's not your fault. It's not even the Professor's fault, even though I was angry at him about it. I guess I just wanted to know that, in a different world, things would be different."

Logan nodded. "I guess I know how that feels. I've lost a lotta people that I care about in my life, an' I'd sometimes wonder how things would be in a different world. Guess some things ain't meant to have happy endings in ANY world."

Blink looked at the sky. "It just isn't fair!" she burst out. "I mean, I've been miserable for my entire life! The Age of Apocalypse SUCKED! All I'd ever hoped for was that I'd wake up and find that it was just a nightmare, but then I learned to live with all of the death and ruin and war. Magneto made me an X-Man, and gave me hope that Apocalypse could be killed and that maybe some hope and peace and sanity would return to that God-forsaken Earth! All the time, I spent praying that I would live through the war so that when it was all over I could maybe start over.

"Then Bishop shows up and dashes those hopes with his psychotic babbling that all of it is just some sort of sick cosmic joke, that none of it belongs because Charles Xavier is supposed to be still alive. I thought that maybe if THAT were true, if Apocalypse never took over the world, I would HAVE to live a happy life with Mom and Dad and my Robbie--"

Logan interrupted. "Robbie a boyfriend?"

Blink almost giggled. "No, silly! Robbie was my brother. I loved him so much. He was killed with my parents when Apocalypse started his Cullings. They were all normal humans, so he murdered them, but that didn't matter anymore, because they're all alive here!" She looked crestfallen. "But is even that for certain? I mean, if I die here, what might have happened to them? I might as well have just stayed behind in the Age of Apocalypse.

"I might as well be dead here," she concluded morbidly.

Hearing that, Logan spun around to face her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her until her teeth chattered. "Don't!" he shouted. "Don't ever... EVER... think that! I hear everything yer sayin', and God knows I've been through some of it, but it ain't never worth being dead for! Now I don't pretend to know just how much Apocalypse took from your world, but I know that he couldn't take that soul of yours. Look Clarice, you are still alive, no matter what happened to any 'reality-twin,' dead or otherwise. And no, just because you defeated Apocalypse and restored this world to 'normal' doesn't mean that everything that happened to you, all your hurt, all your loss, is gonna just disappear. Happiness ain't free in any world, I can tell you that, but it ain't impossible to get."

Blink bit her lower lip, trying not to cry. "I know, but how long do I have to keep putting up with all of this nonsense before I get MY happiness? Mr. Creed told me it was a good thing that you poked Sabretooth in the brain with your claws, but when I saw that, all I felt was... sadness! Mr. Creed told me that all the X-Men that died when the nukes went off weren't really dying, and that I should feel happy that they're all getting a second chance, but all I feel is sadness! My friends and I get attacked by this weirdo who calls himself Spider-Man as soon as we get here, and THEN we get invited to stay at his place, where I find out that the Clarice Ferguson of this world has been dead for months, after believing that I'd be happy in a different world?" Tears started to flow down her cheeks.

Logan frowned. "How'd you find out at his place that you'd 'died' in this world?"

Blink sniffled and wiped away her tears. "He let me use his computer and I found out on the internet after doing a little research on 'myself.'"

He nodded. "Yeah, computers suck, don't they? But hey, think of what Weapon X'll be going through when he wakes up. I mean, the only reason he came here, according to your story and what we saw in the Danger Room, was to save his Jean Grey. He and that Prelate Cyclops are here, but no Jeannie. So you ain't the only one with these problems."

Blink sighed, too tired to argue. "Wonder what happened to her anyway?" she said, stifling a yawn. "Betcha it has something to do with why Weapon X has his hand back and Prelate has his other eye back. Did they say anything to you when you found them?"

Logan shook his head. "Weapon X woke up for a coupla seconds, but he passed out again after talkin' to Jeannie, and Prelate Cyke STILL hasn't woke up yet. Far as I know, they're both still unconscious." He thought about her witnessing his fight with Sabretooth while she traveled through the M'Kraan Crystal to his world. Was her world SO different that Creed was actually decent? Slowly he could feel his resolve against her "Mr. Creed" weakening. "And about Sabretooth, no, I ain't proud about what I did to him. Maybe he had it comin', but I didn't have the right to almost kill him like that. How much of that you saw, how much it affected you, I don't know, but I can't take it back, an' apologizin' for it won't make you forgive me for it."

Blink hugged him, and for a moment, Logan felt safer for it. To him, it almost felt like Jubilee was back, or Kitty Pryde. His fatherly instincts took over, and he hugged back. He thought back to the time he held Jubilee like that, a year ago, when Illyana died from the Legacy Virus. With Jubilee gone off to Emma Frost's Massachusetts Academy, Logan had become lonelier than he'd care to admit. He wondered how jealous Jubilee would be to see him comforting Blink, but put the thought out of his mind almost as quickly as it appeared. Jubes could be possessive at times, but she wasn't irrational or unreasonable.

"I love him, Logan," Blink whispered. "I know you hate him, but he's the closest thing to a daddy that I have."

Logan hugged her tighter. "I don't hate yer Mr. Creed, pup. I don't even KNOW him, so let's hope he's as good a man as you say he is."

Their tender moment was interrupted as Professor Xavier summoned Logan.

*Wolverine,* the Professor called out urgently, *our guests are awake, and they are not in good moods.*

*Both of 'em awake this time, Chuck?* Logan asked. *If they're itchin' fer a fight, I'll be glad to scratch.*

"What's going on?" Blink asked. "Is something wrong?"

Logan looked at the boat house. "Could be. Normally I'd say don't follow me, this could be dangerous, but I get the feeling we might need your help on this one. Weapon X and Prelate Cyclops are up now, and from the sound of the Prof's voice, they're causing some trouble."

Blink was happy for the distraction. "Good. Let's kick some butt."

They ran off, eager to meet the challenge.

* * *

Psylocke and Storm held Weapon X to the ground while Beast and Bishop restrained Prelate Cyclops. High levels of adrenaline were present in all participants of this fight, a fact that Phoenix and Professor Xavier were trying to handle by telepathically soothing the minds of the two Age of Apocalypse exiles. To a certain extent, it was working on Prelate Cyclops, but it was only making Weapon X more angry.

"Get outta my head, you freakin' brain-pirates! An' get these two frails offa me 'fore I gut 'em!" he growled.

It had all started when Phoenix had greeted the two as they awoke from their comas. Weapon X confused her for his Jean Grey, and grew very violent when he realized that she was not. Before any explanations could be given, he and Prelate Cyclops were tearing down the walls of the cell they were being held in. Phoenix was safe for the most part, encasing herself in a telekinetic bubble to protect her from debris and any attacks that might have been made against her, but by the time she had summoned the Professor for assistance, the two confused warriors had pretty much totaled the boat house they were being held in. Seeing the damage done, the X-Men naturally assumed that the two had gone berserk, and before Phoenix could protest that it was all a misunderstanding, the fight was well underway.

As groggy as they were from just regaining consciousness, the two were quickly overpowered by the X-Men.

"I'm warnin' you babes," Weapon X growled, "if you don't let me up, an' I mean right now, both of you are gonna feel some serious pain."

"Really, now," Psylocke's lovely British voice responded, "your charm makes it impossible to say 'no.'"

Psylocke and Storm let go of him, but not before Psylocke plunged her psychic knife deep into his brain, finishing the telepathic task that Phoenix and Professor Xavier had begun. Suitably sedated, he began calling out for his beloved Jean.

Prelate Cyclops, still under telepathic paralysis, was limp as Bishop and Beast looked to the Professor for the okay to let him go. "Well," the Prelate said as they released him, "I suppose you're going to take us to Apocalypse. Or are you just going to execute us here?"

The other Cyclops dropped from the sky and landed on his feet directly in front of the Prelate. "I know this is going to come to you as a shock," he said to his twin, "but we are trying to help you."

Prelate Cyclops looked at X-Man Cyclops and did a double take. "What the hell...?"

Archangel swooped down and folded his arms across his chest. "You aren't going to find Apocalypse anywhere on this world, pal. He died on the moon several months ago. I should know: I killed him myself."

"Damn! I missed all the fun!" came the gruff voice of Wolverine. He and Blink arrived on the scene just in time for Weapon X to come out of his trance and hop to his feet, battle ready.

Blink hopped over to Weapon X and carefully put her hand on his shoulder. "Easy," she said softly, "they're on our side, Logan."

Weapon X looked at Wolverine. "Eh? Who's that? A long lost twin brother that nobody told me about?"

Blink sighed. "When you took Cyclops and Jean Grey and hopped into the M'Kraan Crystal, you ended up in a parallel timeline. Our world doesn't exist anymore, Logan."

Weapon X took a step back cautiously. His claws retracted, but he was still on edge. "None o' that matters t'me! All I want is to find Jeannie. She's gotta be in some kinda danger, and I can't let nothin' happen to her!"

Professor Xavier's hoverchair hummed as he made his way over to Weapon X. "I am Professor Charles Xavier, leader of this team. I call them X-Men, and if you'll let us, we'll be more than willing to assist you in finding her."

Prelate Cyclops made his way over to the Professor. He and Weapon X then took turns solemnly shaking the bald, crippled man's hand.

"Shall we be getting back to the mansion?" Beast inquired. "I have some tests I want to run, as well as medical examinations for all three of you from this so-called Age of Apocalypse--"

A brilliant flash of light cut off Beast, revealing in it's wake one of the X-Men's most dangerous foes. Legion. All his dark black hair stood on end, and his eyes sparkled with a sinister green glow. In the past, the X-Men had seen him dressed in a green hospital gown and matching pants. Here he was dressed like an ancient Roman senator, in a white toga, gold bracelets, and sandals. However, this was not the most amazing part of his new image. His left arm was gone, replaced with a wing-like appendage, and a triple-halo of fire hovered above his head. He looked at Professor Xavier and smiled sweetly.

Weapon X and Prelate Cyclops hadn't said a word since Legion arrived, but neither one of them seemed happy to see him. Weapon X walked up to the one-winged angel and unsheathed his adamantium claws.

"YOU!!!" he shouted. "What have you done with Jean?"

Legion cast down a bolt of psionic fire upon Weapon X after a look of annoyance. The adamantium clawed mutant writhed in agony, dropped to his knees and gurgled out all kinds of incomprehensible profanities. Legion looked to the X-Men, who were now even more alarmed.

"That's right," he crowed, his voice unnaturally amplified, "I'm back, by popular demand! And for the crimes against me, there is no one in ANY universe who will be left untouched! All living beings will suffer my wrath! Ah-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

With that, he disappeared, leaving the X-Men to wonder what kind of danger the universe was in now. To Weapon X and Prelate Cyclops, the search for Jean had come across it's first big roadblock. Finally, Blink was left wondering what cosmic problems Mr. Creed and Wild Child were suffering, and if they were even close to the ones she'd just gotten into.

END SECTION ONE

   [1]: mailto:gstebbin@clarityconnect.com



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